


Drabbles

by winterwaters



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon - Book, Canon - TV, F/M, POV Multiple, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 87
Words: 84,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a series of one-shots, some connected, some not, all revolving around Arya/Gendry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at any fanfiction at all...this relationship just pulled it out of me. These have been going on in my head for a while now - pretty much since season 2 started and Joe Dempsie came back into my life ;) So please don't be too harsh! Constructive criticism is always appreciated though.  
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Arya walked around Braavos, no mask in place. Today was not a day for masks. Not that anyone would recognize her face anyways, or so she thought. In the years she'd spent training as a Faceless Man, her body had changed considerably. She was no longer a child, but a slender young woman, with a noticeable swell in her chest and curve of her hips.  


Her height hadn't changed as much as she would have liked. She'd only grown a couple of inches since coming to the Free Cities, but her face was much too hardened for anyone to think her a child any longer. Her grey eyes, sharp as ever, noticed everything around her as she walked through the streets. Her hair was much longer, usually tied in a braid down her back. She often thought it a burden, but could never go through with chopping it off again. It was her one reminder of what used to be. In any case, as long as it was tied up it didn't come in the way.  


She was dressed in her usual clothing, an overly large shirt, to hide some of her form, and breeches with boots pulled over them to the knee. Her boots held a dagger, as did the bands, one wrapped around each arm, sheathing one blade each. Her hair was in a braid today, but coiled under a hat she'd swiped from an unfortunate merchant's stall earlier in the year. It was old and worn from the countless times she'd used it, not just in a disguise but as shelter from the cold.  


Her target today was a guest landing in the ports. She hadn't been given a name, which she briefly thought was unusual before dismissing the thought from her mind completely. She was only told he would be bringing news of the war in Westeros, with a specific question about a lost Stark.  


The Starks.  


She was a Stark once, that much she remembered. The Faceless Men tried to make her forget, and she did, for a time. But even the training couldn't stop the dreams. Dreams of running through the forest with Nymeria, as Nymeria. She had no way of knowing if they were real, but they were her anchor to home. Something else that was her anchor, although she wouldn't admit it, was the place Nymeria always returned to at the end of the dream. The edge of a village, not far from which stood a forge, often ringing with the sounds of a smith at work late into the night. Arya usually wouldn't let herself think of him, that stupid boy who left her pack. But he always lingered in her mind as she awoke, and that she couldn't seem to stop.  


"Watch yourself, boy!"  


Arya sidestepped the cart at the last second, shooting the merchant one defiant glare before marching by. Idiot, she thought. Can't even tell the difference between a boy and a girl. But that was the point, then. Most people didn't stop to look twice at a small person in men's clothing, hair covered by a hat. Hiding in plain sight. It was her favorite disguise.  


Arya approached the port earlier than expected, so she spent some time moving among the stalls, watching the boats come in one by one. As the morning gradually went on, the port became more and more crowded. Arya began moving closer to the docks, wanting to see who came off the ships. She was looking not for a large ship, but a smaller one that would only hold a few passengers who could pay by coin or trading. Just like the one I came on, she thought grimly.  


But it soon became clear that too many boats would be coming in at once, too many for her to keep track of. She retreated back to the stalls, knowing that her target would go there first, as they were the best source of knowledge as to who came in and out of the city. Ever patient, she circled, and finally she heard what she'd been waiting for:  


"...She'd have looked like a boy when she got here, tiny thing in clothes too big for her and short hair."  


"Boy, do you know how many people come in and out of this port in a day? She could have been anywhere. And if she looks the way you said, she probably was snatched up by someone needing boys for labor. Now move on, you're scaring off all my customers!"  


Arya could see why. He was tall, with broad shoulders, towering over many of the people in the area. Although she could only see his back, his shock of black hair and tanned skin would be easy enough to track, tall as he was. His voice had triggered something in her, but she ignored it. She couldn't forget her mission.  


As he began to move on, she followed, trying to catch a glimpse of his face, but to no avail. Why wouldn't he just turn around?  


Why does it matter? she chastised herself. It doesn't. What matters is that you finish this.  


She moved in, got closer to him and got ready to make her move and get out. Nobody noticed a young boy. Until he suddenly turned around, and startled blue eyes met equally shocked grey ones.  


Arya stopped cold, one hand up her sleeve on the dagger. For a second, she was twelve years old again, surrounded by pain and sadness, staring into the same blue eyes and wondering what would come next.  


He moved forward slightly, one hand out as if to touch her face, and the spell was broken. She turned to bolt, but not before he caught her elbow and spun her around with enough force to knock the cap from her head. All she could do was watch as her braid unraveled and fell down her back, and a myriad of emotions crossed his face: stubborness, disbelief, and then grim certainty.  


"I knew it." His voice came out hoarse and low, like he'd been yelling for ages. "I knew I'd find you."  


His hand moved from her elbow, up to her shoulder and back down to her her hand, as he grasped his fingers in hers. His other hand moved to her face, and she was shocked to realize he wiped a tear from her face.  


"Arya." He sighed her name, now holding her face with both hands.  


She came alive in that moment, as if she'd woken up after years of sleep, or cleared the surface of water after having been under for too long.  


Her hands came up to grip his arms fiercely, and she pulled him closer, touching her forehead to his.  


"You stupid...stupid," she whispered.  


Gendry choked out a laugh and pulled her to him, arms like a vice grip around her, his face buried in her shoulder. She felt his breath ghost along her ear as he said her name over and over.


	2. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-war, Arya and Gendry are living at Winterfell, where Sansa is Queen of the North. Jon is also staying there after being wounded in The Night's Watch. Sansa is concerned about Arya's well-being, but when she confronts her she gets a surprise.

Sansa watched from her place at the front of the room as people began to file into the hall for breakfast. She sat in the middle of the table, surrounded on either side by Jon and a few other trusted friends. She smiled and said her hellos to those who passed by or waved, but her eyes remained on the doorway, waiting for her sister to come through. For the past couple of days, Arya hadn't quite been herself. Her tongue was sharp as ever, but the bags under her eyes told a different story. Her movements in the training yard were just slightly off - a step here, a slash there. Most watching would have assumed it was a quick mistake and moved on. But Sansa knew better. Arya didn't make mistakes. 

Soon enough, Sansa saw her. As she did every morning, Arya walked in with her blacksmith husband, Gendry, waved at Sansa, and sat at one of the tables near the middle of the room, chatting with many of the workers who were rebuilding Winterfell. While she usually looked livened by her early morning water dancing, as she called it, her smile seemed forced this morning, as it had for the past two days. Her long, dark hair hung loose around her shoulders instead of being plaited down her back. Sansa wondered what she was trying to hide under all that hair. She watched as Gendry put a hand on Arya's neck, slowly massaging as they talked with the others. She leaned into him slightly, seeming to use him for support. 

Sansa kept an eye on Arya and Gendry throughout the meal, noting that while they still chatted with the others at their table normally, neither was eating much, and they seemed more tired than usual. It was the same thing she'd been noticing the past few days, and Sansa was determined to get to the bottom of it today. 

"You know you'll need to eat if you're going to try to get her to talk, right?" 

Sansa turned to Jon, startled out of her thoughts. He pointed at her still-full plate, chuckling slightly, his dark eyes teasing. 

"If you intend to get anything out of her, you'll need all your strength. Eat." 

Sansa smiled and picked up her fork, knowing full well he was just as concerned about Arya but trying to lighten the mood. She was ever grateful for his presence, always comforting but solid as a rock. After he recuperated from his injuries suffered as a part of The Night's Watch, she had insisted he stay at Winterfell for a few days longer to help out with the place he so obviously loved. A few days turned into weeks, and then months, and neither had spoken a word of it since. 

Later that afternoon, Sansa entered the practice yard where Arya usually trained with other men and women. Today, though, she was alone. Jon had seen to that. Sansa watched as Arya went through the motions of her water dance, jumping, spinning and slashing with a deadly grace. 

As suddenly as she spun through the motions, she was done, ending in a defensive crouch. She stood up, her back still to Sansa, and leaned heavily on her sword, letting the pointy end dig further into the ground. 

"Arya?" 

Arya came out of her relaxed stance briefly as she turned, then seeing it was only Sansa, she smiled - a tired smile, but a real one. 

"Hello, Sansa. What brings you here?" 

Sansa fidgeted. The last thing she wanted to do was start an argument. She and Arya had been close since they were reunited, and while they still had their fights, they were not often the yelling matches of the past. But this was a touchy subject. 

"Sansa? Are you alright?" Arya came closer, touching her arm, a look of concern on her face. 

Sansa smiled and gripped her hand. "Yes, I'm fine. I wanted to talk to you about...well, you. Are you okay?" 

Arya smiled again, but this time it was forced. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be." 

Sansa sighed. "Arya." 

"Sansa." 

"Fine. You haven't been eating, you practically sleep walk in for breakfast for the past three days-" 

"Maybe I'm not hungry-" Arya began to protest 

Sansa spoke over her. "AND you tripped in training yesterday. You. Tripped." 

Arya shut her mouth. Sansa recognized the look. It was her stubborn, defiant glare that dared her to keep going. 

"We're just worried about you, Arya. Why won't you talk to us?" 

Arya looked at the ground, at her sword, anywhere but at Sansa. 

"That would be because she's trying to protect me." 

Both girls turned to see Gendry standing at the training yard fence, a rueful smile on his face. Sansa heard Arya's intake of breath behind her, and then as she released it in a sad sigh. Gendry walked toward them, in his sturdy coat and boots. He came to a stop in front of Sansa, his hands respectfully behind his back, as he bowed his head slightly. 

"Your Grace." 

Sansa sighed. "Gendry, how many times do I have to tell you-" 

"Don't bother," Arya cut in. "He won't listen. Never does." But she was smiling again, the soft smile she always wore around him. 

He grinned at her briefly, and for a second Sansa felt as if she wasn't there. Then he turned back to her, his face more serious. 

"I'm afraid I'm the reason Arya's been...not herself the past few days. You see, I haven't been sleeping all that well these nights. I'm not entirely sure what brought it on, but I..." he struggled for a second. "To put it simply, I have nightmares." He smiled sadly. "Every time I close my eyes, it's like I'm reliving a different moment from the war, or something before that, or something about mum..." he cleared his throat. "It happens every now and then, and I sort of just have to ride it out." 

Sansa gaped at him. "But why haven't you seen a maester?" 

"I tried. But whatever he gave me the first time had awful after effects, and I couldn't work for almost a week. So I just try to get over it as soon as possible." He looked at Sansa apologetically. "The yelling and shaking tends to wake your bed-mate quite easily. Arya's been trying to help. I told her to sleep in the castle with you, but she just told me I was stupid and laid back down." 

"Because you are stupid for even suggesting that." Arya glared at him. 

Gendry laughed. "Right. Forgive me, milady." 

Arya huffed and crossed her arms, but her eyes couldn't hide her worry. 

Sansa couldn't believe what she was hearing. This was the most she'd ever heard Gendry say at one time, to her no less. On top of that, she had been so concerned about Arya that she had barely spared Gendry a second look. Only now, up close, did she see his handsome face was extremely fatigued, and he stood stooped, as if a great weight was on his shoulders. All this time she thought he was supporting Arya, but she had failed to see Arya had also been supporting him greatly, as well. 

Arya sheathed her sword and took Gendry's hand. "Can we keep this between us?" she asked Sansa. 

Sansa nodded, but had to ask. "Why all the secrecy?" 

Gendry chuckled as a wry smile crossed Arya's face, and he brought up her hand to press a light kiss to her knuckles. 

"To be honest, it wasn't intentional at first. It's just...we're so used to it just being us, to dealing with things ourselves, we didn't really think to go to anyone about it." He smiled sheepishly. 

"Besides," Arya said, "it's not exactly something you can just bring up over a meal." 

Sansa nodded. It made sense. The two of them were such independent people. As a couple, she shouldn't have expected any different. 

"If it does get worse, Gendry, you know you can come to me. We can try to figure something out with the maesters." 

He nodded. She knew he probably wouldn't come, and so did he, but his face showed his appreciation of her offer. 

Arya gave her sister a tight hug, whispering a quick "thank you" before letting go. 

Sansa walked out of the training yard, listening to the sounds of Arya and Gendry's soft murmurs, so different from their usual loud bickering. She turned around once to see Gendry wrap his arms around Arya and press his forehead to hers. Her arms went around his back and her eyes closed, her face finally calm. He pressed a light kiss to her forehead, then her nose, and finally lingered at her lips before letting go. He went to lean against the fence as she settled into her water dancer stance once more. This time, she moved as if she was lighter than air, and never missed a step.


	3. Patrols

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slightly AU, I guess. Post-war, Arya has been on a patrol outside of Winterfell for a couple of weeks and is eager to return home to Gendry, and everyone knows it.

Arya rode through the gates of Winterfell after two weeks on the road. Her group of riders, including her younger brother Rickon, had been out on patrol in the areas surrounding Winterfell. They'd stopped at several towns, checking in on their supplies and rations and helping out where they were needed. But they had been waylaid by a storm for a few days, and one of their horses had to be fitted for a new horseshoe after cracking the old one.

Arya knew she couldn't control what had happened, but that hadn't stopped her bad mood. She had volunteered for this patrol, wanting to bring a proper report to Sansa and Jon, as well as show Rickon the ropes. But she hadn't been away from Gendry this long since...well, since Braavos. Neither of them wanted to revisit that time in their lives, and it had become unspoken to not be apart for more than a few days. The patrol had changed that.

"Arya, hang on!" Rickon called out to her, laughing. "Have you forgotten where the stables are already?"

She reined in her horse and turned to meet her brother, her long braid whipping around over her shoulder. Rickon's clothes were splattered in mud and his face was smudged from the dirt, but his Tully blue eyes were bright as ever. The people called him their wild prince, and he happily obliged the nickname. Arya encouraged it, too, to Sansa's dismay. Sansa had wanted Rickon to learn more of the politics of ruling, but he had shown no interest, seemingly happiest when helping the townspeople. She had no choice but to give her approval, albeit grudgingly, when she saw how his eyes lit up at the prospect of joining the patrols, and learning to fight.

"I know that, silly. I just want to give Sansa her report before I forget it all."

"Liar. You were heading for the forge."

Arya crossed her arms. "If you knew where I was going, why'd you stop me, little brother?"

"No way. If I don't get to see Shireen right away, you have to wait to see Gendry."

Arya glared at him. "Have you even gotten up the balls to kiss her yet?"

Rickon's cheeks reddened but he remained defiant. "That's none of your concern," he said, sounding far too much like Sansa for Arya's liking. "Stables first, then Sansa. She will come find you, you know."

The rest of their group came in at that moment, their horses breathing heavily. Arya threw her hands up in a huff and turned towards the stables, sparing one more look in the direction of the forge.

After leaving their horses with the stable hands, the group went into the castle and to the main hall, where Sansa and Jon were waiting. Sansa smiled widely and hugged Arya and Rickon tightly.

It's good to have you both home."

Arya hugged Jon, and squealed as he lifted her off her feet, making her feel like a child once more. "It's good to see you too," she said once she was safely back on the ground. Sansa and Jon greeted the other members of the group and then they proceeded into one of the smaller rooms and sat at the round table to give their report as usual.

Arya gave an overview of the towns, their supplies, and any problems they had faced. Then she nodded at Rickon, who took over with a much detailed report of each town. Her mind wandered as she listened to Rickon's voice recite the report he had drilled with her on countless nights.

Gendry would be in the forge, pounding away at some hunk of metal or another to create something useful and sturdy. Her hand went up to her neck, fingered the pendant she always wore around her neck on a black cord - the silhouette of a howling wolf. It was Gendry's first present to her (of many), and it was one of her most treasured. The other most treasured rested on the third finger of her left hand, a twisted silver ring to match one on his hand. She hated being away from him for even a day. It sounded petty to some, and she knew of many soldiers who left their loved ones for long periods of time, but she was not like that. Not anymore. After seeing him in Braavos, she barely left his side at first. Only after months of traveling and returning to take Winterfell with her family did she feel comfortable doing her own tasks and leaving him to his work. They always came home to each other at night, something Arya tried to never take for granted.

"Hello, anyone there?" A hand waved in front of her face.

Arya batted it away, feeling the heat creep up her cheeks. "What?"

Jon was biting back a smile, and Rickon was openly grinning cheekily. Only Sansa could keep a straight face, and even her mouth twitched slightly before she repeated herself.

"I asked you if Rickon covered it all?"

Shit. She hadn't been listening. But of course he had. "Yes, of course. Were you expecting anything else?"

Rickon spoke up. "I thought you could tell them about the girls who had asked you about the training school."

Damn. Why'd he have to go and bring that up now? Arya glared at him, then sighed, turning to face Sansa.

"Some of the girls in the neighboring town got wind of the fact that I was thinking of starting some training, basic defense moves, for anyone who wanted to learn. They had some questions, and I answered as best I could but told them it would be quite a while before anything was official."

Sansa smiled. "That's great! Now you know you have interest. We could develop a great program. You and Jon should sit down to plan this out further."

Jon's smile was downright devilish as he looked at her. "Yes, absolutely. I know Arya can talk for hours about the skills people should learn, who should teach, what should be taught. We can even find the builders and get their opinion on where to start breaking ground. Right, sister?"

Arya stared at him. He couldn't be serious. He knew exactly where her mind had been. The whole table did. She fingered her ring and stood up.

"Right. Well, you know how much I love to talk about that school. So of course when the girls asked me, I couldn't help but tell them all my ideas. But thankfully, Rickon was right next to me while I explained everything. So he can provide you with all the details. If that's all, then?"

She all but ran out the door, hearing Jon burst into laughter behind her, as Sansa said, "I can't wait to hear what you have to say, Rickon."

Arya took the steps two at a time, her boots clattering on the stone. She walked quickly through the village, waving but not stopping to talk with those who greeted her. Most of them smiled knowingly anyways, as her cheeks burned.

She pushed open the door to the forge noisily, feeling the heat hit her right as she was pushed to the ground. Laughing, she threw her arms around Nymeria, who was standing over her, tongue out and tail wagging. "It's good to see you, too, girl."

She heard him before she saw him, coming up behind Nymeria in his dark boots and trousers and removing his apron. Gendry grinned as he saw Nymeria standing over her and came over, patting the wolf lightly. Nymeria moved and he held out a hand to Arya to help her up. She grasped it and he lifted her up and into his arms, kicking the forge door closed, and she sighed contentedly. His arms were strong and comforting around her back; her hands were thrown around his shoulders, head nestled in his neck. After a minute, he moved as if to let her go, but she gripped his shoulders harder and shook her head, feeling his chest move as he laughed and whispered, "I missed you, too."

They stayed like that for some time, content to be in each other's arms. Eventually she unwound herself from him, but only to grasp his head to bring it down to hers for a kiss. Their lips met slowly, lazily, like old lovers, and she sighed into his mouth. His tongue tangled with hers, teasing. His hands brought her closer again, and she gripped his short hair harder as he left her lips to trail small kisses down her neck and up again, to the spot behind her ear that drove her crazy. She moaned, and he brought his head up, a smirk on his face. "I missed that, too."

"Shut up," she gasped.

His smirk grew wider. "As m'lady commands," he said, before capturing her lips in another kiss and walking her backwards into the forge.


	4. Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Sansa talk about Gendry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School just started up for me, so I'm going to try to keep updating for my own Arya/Gendry fix as long as I can :)

Sansa walked through the godswood, grateful for the beautiful weather that had graced Winterfell today. The sun was shining, and despite the ever-present chill in the air, it was a lovely day. She had taken a break from her duties, on Jon and Bran's insistence, and decided to walk through the godswood for some peace and quiet. As she rounded one of the trees, though, she stopped in her tracks, taken aback by the sight before her.

Arya lay with her back against the tree, her hair escaping its long braid. She was in a soft grey tunic and breeches, her legs stretched out in front of her. Stretched out next to her, and partially on top of her, was the blacksmith. _Gendry_ , Sansa corrected herself. Arya hated when people didn't remember his name. He too, was in a loose shirt and breeches, having left his heavy apron back at the forge. His head was resting on her belly, his arms loosely holding her around her waist, and her hands stroked his hair lightly, almost absentmindedly. He was sound asleep. 

Arya looked the most peaceful she had in days, Sansa thought. When she wasn't training with the other guards, Arya was checking on the rebuilding of Winterfell. Gendry, with his size and strength, had been a hugely helpful addition to the team of builders, and as such, Arya had been involved in every step of the recovery process for their home. Now, she gazed down at Gendry with a small smile on her face, her features softening as they always seemed to around him.

Sansa knew the stories surrounding Gendry. Robert Baratheon's bastard. She didn't care, and neither did the people of Winterfell. He had helped bring Arya home to reclaim Winterfell and fought beside her and Jon during the battle. After, he had helped with the rebuilding - and still was - alongside his daily work at the forge. He was well-known to many, despite being a man of few words. His feelings for Arya were obvious - they were never too far apart, and while they were never publicly romantic, Sansa didn't miss the small touches and smiles they shared.

Sansa knew she should have moved, but she couldn't help watch her younger sister. She had once been so sure they would never meet again. Now, they were only a few feet apart. 

Just then, Arya looked around and spotted Sansa. She didn't seem to react, but her face was guarded again, and her shoulders tightened with some tension. Sansa sighed, moving forward. When she was near enough to talk without waking Gendry, she surprised Arya by plopping down in a very ungainly fashion. Arya's lips curled and her hands resumed stroking Gendry's hair.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised you came out here," Arya grinned slightly. "I heard Jon and Bran practicing their arguments against you earlier."

Sansa giggled softly. "Well, they worked. Not that it took me too much convincing, since I was staring out the window as it were." She looked at Gendry. "I'm surprised you got him away from the forge and the builders."

Arya snorted. "Stupid bull. He was so insistent on using the good weather to build, but when nobody showed, he gave in." She smiled slyly at Sansa. "I told them all to take out their girls." 

Sansa laughed. Arya had not lost her sense of humor over all these years, that was certain. Arya looked down at Gendry and continued quietly, "He's been so tired lately. I wanted him to get some rest."

"You've both been working very hard," Sansa agreed softly. They hadn't truly talked about Gendry, not really, ever since they were reunited. Sansa had been afraid to broach the subject, fearing it would cause an argument she didn't want to have, especially after finally having Arya back. But now, in the quiet of the godswood, Sansa felt brave enough to dip her toes in the water.

"Arya-" 

"Please don't ask me if I'm happy," Arya cut her off bitterly. "I'm sick of that question."

"That's not what I was going to ask at all!" Sansa leaned forward, trying to make Arya see the truth. "Arya, do you really think me foolish enough to ask that? Anyone who sees the two of you together has no reason to ask you that."

Arya gazed at her for a moment, eyes slightly wide, then reached out one hand and placed it over Sansa's. "Thank you."

Sansa smiled, clasping her hand. "What I was going to ask, is if you and Gendry wanted to stay at the castle, instead of by the forge? I know it's easier for him to work, but I just wanted to offer it."

Arya smiled. "I think we'd rather stay where we are. I quite like the place. It's simple, and..." she trailed off, then shrugged and smiled softly. "It's ours."

They sat in companionable silence for a minute or two, before Arya spoke again.

"I know what people must think, us living together unmarried and all," she said, looking down. "I don't really care about them, but I know it's important to you. Is it ... do you think it's wrong?"

For a second, Arya looked like a young girl again, and Sansa wanted to take her in her arms and make her every promise. Instead, she gripped her hand tightly and looked her in the eyes.

"Arya, nobody cares about your living situation. You're _alive_. That's all they wanted. You are a Stark, and you've come home." She paused, letting her words sink in, then added, "I suspect we owe Gendry more thanks than we've given. But don't think people don't recognize what he's done for you. For our home."

Arya simply stared at her for some time. Then she smiled and said, "I've got to start giving you more credit."

"That's what I've been saying all along."


	5. Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His lips separated from hers with a groan as the knocking continued. "They aren't going to go away," he sighed.

His lips collided with hers with the same urgency she'd shown moments before. This time, though, instead of her frenzied attack, he cradled her face with his hands, slanting his mouth over hers warmly. She moaned, opening her mouth and meeting his tongue with hers. She stretched up on her tip-toes and put her arms around his neck, fingers raking through his hair and and over the nape of his neck, wrenching a groan from him as he took his mouth off hers to breathe.

"How does this keep happening here?" He asked, grinning as he put his forehead to hers and walking her backwards. Her face was flushed, hair wild and loose around her head, lips already swollen from kissing. 

She hit his chest lightly with her hand. "Shut up."

"I'm serious," he laughed. "I'll never get any work done if we always end up like this."

"Do you want to stop?"

"Gods, no." He covered her laugh with another lingering kiss that stole her breath once more, before lifting her to sit on the workbench in the corner. He stepped between her legs and put his arms around her, trailing small kisses down her jaw and neck. Her small sighs urged him on, as he peppered her neck with open-mouthed kisses and slipped his hand under her overly large tunic. She gripped his shoulders tightly as he caressed her skin slowly, lovingly.

 _"Gendry,"_ she moaned softly. It got him every time. His fingers moved upwards, palming her breasts lightly, his touch still teasing. He kissed her again and she pulled him even closer, wanting to feel him everywhere. She ran her hands along his shoulders and the broad expanse of his back, raking her nails lightly over the muscles. Her hands wandered down, to the curve of his lower back, and she pressed lightly, feeling him thrust towards her and groan into her shoulder. She grinned triumphantly and pulled back to kiss him again, locking her legs around his waist.

He was about to pick her up and move to the cot in the back of the forge when he heard the knock.

"Seven hells," he muttered, dropping his forehead to rest against hers. "Please tell me you bolted the door, at least."

"Of course! But who is that?"

"My new, far too eager apprentice."

"Oh...that was today?"

"Yeah." 

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Any chance he'll go away?"

Gendry raised an eyebrow at her. She couldn't help but giggle at the expression on his face. "We really should stop doing this."

"Master Gendry! Are you in there? I'm to work with you today!" A voice shouted through the door.

Gendry sighed. "I'd better go let him in." 

"I'll slip out the back," Arya smiled softly and kissed him quickly. He moved back and she hopped off the table. 

Gendry tucked her hair behind her ear, stroking her cheek softly. "Come visit later?"

She pressed a quick kiss to his palm and started towards the back. "Of course. Maybe this time I'll leave the bolt unlocked." She winked and left, hearing his laughter follow her out.


	6. Jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ADwD. A nighttime conversation between Arya and Gendry.

"Tell me," Arya demanded, tugging on his shirt. 

"Why is it so important?" Gendry looked down at her.

Arya paused, her fingers resting on his chest. "I just...I want to know."

Gendry sighed. "You'll laugh."

"I won't." 

"Fine. But you have to tell me yours."

She paused, biting her lip. How he wanted to bite it for her. "Alright, deal," she said.

Gendry groaned and covered his face with his hands. How had they gotten on this topic? 

They were lying tangled in bed after a long day of training (for Arya) and repairs (for him), softly chatting. He was in his loose breeches, Arya in one of his shirts (she looked far too good in them), her hair falling loosely over her shoulders. The conversation had wandered from the days events to Rickon and Shireen's engagement. Arya had laughed, remembering back to when they'd first met. Rickon was convinced that Shireen was interested in some lord or another, and Shireen was convinced her scars had scared off Rickon for good. Both were so shy, Arya had to practically bang their heads together to get them to see the truth. She told Gendry as such, and wondered aloud how they could have been so blind.

He was silent for a minute, then responded softly, "Sometimes people can't see what's right in front of them." 

She had lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him quizzically, grey eyes studying him. Before he could backtrack, she had pounced on his choice of words. And here they were.

" _Come on,_ Gendry." Arya shook his shoulder.

"Jaqen H'Gar."

Arya stared at him for a long time, willing her mouth not to twitch. It didn't work. 

Gendry frowned. "I knew you would laugh."

"I didn't laugh!" She protested, now grinning widely. She moved so she was now lying completely on top of him, her hair falling down and creating a curtain around his face.

"You were really jealous of Jaqen?"

"Yeah," he admitted, hands coming up to slowly caress her sides. "I suppose I didn't realize it was jealousy at the time. More like ... a protectiveness. You seemed to spend so much time with him, and you were always going to him for help, when you could have asked me. I wanted you to trust _me_ like that."

He smiled at her. "I know it's silly. But I was concerned and protective, and yes, jealous that he was taking my little friend away from me." He kissed her nose lightly.

Arya leaned down, whispering, "You stupid, stupid bull," before kissing him slowly and deeply. She felt his hands tangle in her hair as their lips and tongues met sweetly. He bit her bottom lip, making her moan softly. She pulled away enough to see his face.

"I was young, and out for vengeance. Jaqen ... he reminded me of my old fighting instructor. He had the tools and training I wanted to get my revenge. I couldn't see past that sometimes," Arya explained haltingly. "I had a mission, and I thought he could help me. You helped me forget, sometimes. I see now that that wasn't a bad thing."

She stroked Gendry's face. "But I always trusted you. You know that, right?" she wanted to make sure he knew. 

"I do, love. I do know."

"Positive?"

He pulled her back down and kissed her in response. 

After a few minutes, he broke off and grinned. "Your turn."

Arya groaned.


	7. Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a completely modern, AU. Arya is a fearless fencing champion and adventurer, but there are some things she will always have to call Gendry for. Established relationship between Arya & Gendry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arya might be a little OOC but I just need to get this out of my system. Loosely based on what happened to me tonight, and the fact that I wish I had a Gendry (hell, anyone) to call when I was freaked out.

The knock sounded twice.

"It's open!" Arya yelled from the couch.

Gendry opened the door and rushed in, his dark hair slightly damp from the drizzle outside. He saw her curled into a corner of the couch, holding her knees to her chest, and sat down next to her gently.

"Damn, Arya, what happened?" He brushed her hair behind her ear.

"It's over there. In my trash can."

" _What_ is?"

Arya glared at him. "The mouse, stupid!"

Gendry stared at her, then laughed. "Come on, really, what's in there?"

She hit his chest once, then his shoulder when he laughed again. "I told you on the phone!"

Gendry raised an eyebrow. "No, you didn't. All you said was, 'Gendry, please come over because I really need your help. Please.'"

"Well I did! I do!" Arya exclaimed defiantly. Gendry noticed she still wouldn't move from her spot on the couch.

He looked at the trash can, then back at her, and then got up slowly, moving toward the garbage. He pushed the swinging lid of the can back just enough to peek inside, then looked back at her, eyebrows raised and mouth twitching.

"It's a mouse."

"Yes, stupid, haven't you been listening?!" Arya all but shrieked.

"You...you called me over here...to help you with a mouse?" Gendry's smirk grew. "You, Arya Stark, who is willing to pick a fight with just about any prick on the block, and who likes to wander London at night? _You_ are scared of a mouse?" 

Arya pressed her knees closer to her chest, curling even further into a ball. "You can laugh and tease me all you want. Will you please get rid of it when you're done?" she asked quietly, not looking at him. 

Gendry stopped smiling and watched her. Her already small form looked even smaller all curled up, and she was far too quiet for his liking. He walked over to her, picking her up gently and then sitting down on the couch with her in his lap. "Arya. Hey, look at me. Please." He curled a finger under her chin until her grey eyes met his blue ones. 

"You know I'll help you. I was just teasing, like we always do."

She sighed and rested her forehead against his. "I know. I'm sorry. I just...I hate this. You're right! How could _I_ be afraid of a little mouse? And even if I were, why should I call a boy to come help me?" She groaned and pulled away. "I'm becoming Sansa."

Gendry chuckled softly and held her tighter. "I'm glad you called me," he told her, placing a small kiss on her nose.

She rolled her eyes. "Why, so you can hold it over me at every opportunity?"

"No!"

Arya cocked an eyebrow. 

"Alright, maybe now and then," Gendry conceded with a smile. "But I'm glad you called me because it means you trust me with something like this, when it clearly makes you so uncomfortable."

"Well of course, stupid. Who else would I call?" Arya smiled shyly, leaning in to kiss him softly.

The can in the corner shook slightly as the mouse ran around inside trying to find an escape route. Arya tensed again Gendry's arms, gripping his shoulders tightly. Gendry reached up and took her hands in his, threading his fingers through hers. "Do me a favor, okay love? Sit down again and close your eyes."

His mouth twitched at the skeptical look on her face. "Come on, trust me."

She sighed and moved off him, curling up in the corner again and closing her eyes. Gendry took off his jacket and from an inner pocket pulled out his mp3 player and earbuds. He adjusted it to one of her favorite playlists and placed the music player in her hands. Arya's face relaxed into a small smile as she realized what she was holding. He slipped the earbuds into her ears and whispered, "Just hit play."

He watched her for a minute, knowing the moment she lost herself in the music. Her shoulders relaxed, as did her death-grip on his music player. Her toes even loosened their grip on the couch cushion. He smiled briefly, soaking in the fact that she trusted him enough to let down the fiery guard she usually had up against the world. He knew he was crazy about her, but he was starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, she was starting to feel the same way.

Maybe he owed that mouse just a little.


	8. Protect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ADwD - Arya never goes into battle without one special item.

This battle was like so many others before it. She danced through most of the soldiers, feeling her sword slip in and out of their bodies and steal lives moment by moment. They were already calling her The Young Wolf Reborn. At first, she had resisted the title, but soon came to wear it proudly, in honor of her brother Robb. If this was how she would reclaim her home, then so be it. She would finish Robb's work. 

So Arya fought, grey eyes devoid of emotion, her long, dark braid whipping behind her. She had thought it would be a nuisance, and in more than one instance, her opponents had grabbed the end of her braid, trying to pull her off balance. She felt a slight tug at her head as someone did just that, then a yell of pain as he felt the spikes embedded in her hair, before he was silenced by Gendry's hammer. Gendry sent her a grim smile, then moved onto the next man.

And so it continued. Men just didn't learn their lesson. One after the other went for her braid, trying to find anything to stop her, and each one was met with the spikes. The first time it happened, though, she was caught off guard. If Tom hadn't happened to be nearby, her wounds would have been worse. As it was, Gendry was furious afterwards. 

Of course, Gendry had done it as a joke when they sparred in the mornings, but that had always felt more like a lover's touch, meant to pull her closer for other reasons. And although he had voiced his concerns about her hair before, she couldn't bring herself to cut it, and he didn't ask her to. 

So when he heard what happened, he went straight to the forge, taking out his frustrations on the steel while Arya sat on the bench quietly. When she couldn't take it anymore, she had come up behind him and slipped her arms around him, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades and then simply holding him. He was breathing hard and shaking slightly as he set the hammer down. He had turned in her arms and held her close, content to rest his head atop hers. 

The next morning, she found a thin, spiked strap lying next to her sleeping furs. She was testing the edges of the spikes with her fingers when she heard him behind her.

"I wouldn't recommend that," he said, coming and taking the cord from her gently. 

"What's it for?" She watched as he knelt behind her, slowly gathering her hair and starting to braid it. Normally, she loved when he did this and began to relax, but today she felt a slight tug in addition to her hair weaving in and out. After he had tied the braid off, she began to pull it around her shoulder, but he stopped her hand.

"Careful," he warned. He took the braid by its tip and lifted it up for her to see, and she gasped. The strap was woven into the braid, disappearing into her dark hair. But the spikes were protruding throughout the length of the braid, ready to draw blood from the next hand that tried to grab her.

Arya looked at Gendry and the slightly shy smile on his face. "So, what do you think?" he asked. 

She scooted closer, reaching up to pull him closer by his shirt collar, and kissed him on the cheek. "It's perfect," she whispered before pulling back. 

His ears were slightly red at the tips, and she knew she was probably blushing slightly as well, but he looked so pleased that she forgot to care.

Now, when Arya went into battle, a small piece of Gendry was always there with her, protecting her when he couldn't be right by her side. She knew it gave him a sense of security, but she was surprised to find herself always reaching for her braid before a fight, running her fingers along the spikes for comfort. He'd caught her doing it now and then, and simply smiled, his blue eyes bright. She smiled as well, happy to carry this piece of him with her always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this turned into something completely different than I intended...hope you liked it anyways!
> 
> The spiked cord that I mention in Arya's braid is an idea I first read in Tamora Pierce's Beka Cooper trilogy (Terrier, Bloodhound and Mastiff). I just loved the idea of it and thought it would be perfect for Arya also. Sorry if the description of it is a little weird, I couldn't think of how to describe it by itself, I just had the image of it in her hair.


	9. Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ADwD. It's been a few years since Arya and Gendry returned from Westeros and helped reclaim Winterfell. They've been married a while but one day Arya sees Gendry with some kids and she's surprised at all the feelings the sight gives her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something that I thought of today during my morning physics lecture. Just had to get it out so that I could actually listen to physics again.

Arya walked into the castle towards the main hall, her long, dark hair loose over her shoulders today. She was wearing a grey tunic, with a slight design at the collar and sleeves (Sansa's doing), and dark leggings and boots, as usual. It was a quiet day at Winterfell, and after her training, she'd gone back to the forge only to see a note from Gendry saying Rickon had dragged him to the castle. So she followed, smiling at the thought of gangly, wild Rickon, and her sturdy, quiet husband together. She heard the laughter and children's voices before she saw the main hall.

She rounded the corner and grinned, spotting Gendry's tall form in the midst of the other families and children that were gathered. He was talking quietly with some of the other men, his head bowed slightly to catch their words. Probably another job. He was never without work anymore - they both were grateful for that.

As Arya looked around, she noticed all the food out on the tables, with people collecting slowly, filing in from different entrances to the hall. She realized there must have been an impromptu midday feast, as various women seemed to be adding their own foods to the main table for everyone to try. Sansa saw her from one side of the room and waved, mouthing "leftovers" wryly. 

Arya smiled and turned back in Gendry's direction. He was nodding at something Lem was telling him, but his blue eyes were on Arya. As she was about to make her way to him, she heard a familiar yell from the other side of the hall. Almost everyone's heads snapped to the doorway, seeing a small, dark-haired boy barreling through.

"Master Gendry! Look, mum, Master Gendry's here!" the toddler yelled at his mother, who walked through the door after him, holding the hands of two little girls. 

Before she could reply, he took off again, heading straight for Gendry. Most people laughed and turned back to their conversations, but Arya stood and watched as Gendry excused himself and bent down to receive the boy, who launched himself at Gendry as soon as he was close enough.

Gendry laughed, absorbing the boy's weight and standing up smoothly in one move. "Hey little man. You get bigger every day, don't you Tommy?" He grinned and ruffled the boy's hair, then called over his head, "What're you feeding him, Nel?"

His mother laughed softly, then went to the table with her girls. Gendry turned back to Tommy and whispered something to him. Tommy nodded clapped his hands in delight. Gendry raised him up slightly, then swung him around so that Tommy was astride his shoulders.

"Hang on, you hear?" Gendry asked him. Tommy nodded and grabbed Gendry's ears, making him wince. Arya covered her mouth as she giggled. Leave it to Gendry to make her _giggle,_ of all things. 

Gendry walked around slowly, Tommy on his shoulders. Tommy had found his way into Gendry's forge - she could never think of it as anyone's but his, now - a few months earlier, on one of his many adventures. Gendry, not knowing where he'd come from, had let him sit and watch, as long as he promised to behave. The boy, fascinated by the work, agreed. His mother came by later, frantic, only to see Tommy sitting still for the first time in as long as she could remember. Since then, she'd allowed him to visit the forge and see Gendry - and by extension, Arya. Tommy's mother always joked that he came out of the womb running, until he ran into Gendry's hammer.

Arya stood for a few minutes just watching Gendry and Tommy, not realizing she was smiling. Tommy's shock of dark hair was reminiscent of Gendry's, making her chest tighten with want. Arya had never thought of herself as the motherly type, and she still didn't. But Gendry - he would be a wonderful father. Watching him bounce Tommy on his shoulders slightly, talking to the boy and answering his questions, she had no doubts. She, she could learn to be a good mother. Gendry would help, as he had so many times before. She giggled now, for crying out loud. But he was meant to be a father someday, of that she was certain. As usual, he had let her come to her own conclusions on the matter, but they hadn't openly talked about it yet.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn't realize Gendry was headed towards her until he was a few feet away. He had a curious look on his face, and she knew he'd caught her. But Tommen, bless the child, was too excited to see "Miss Arya" to notice.

"Miss Aryaaaaa!" he yelled, directly into Gendry's ear.

Arya stifled a laugh and smiled, reaching up to pat Tommy's knee. "Hello Tommy. Still causing trouble?" She winked.

"He wouldn't be Tommy if he wasn't," Gendry grinned slyly. "I'm helping him. Want to join?"

Arya laughed. "You came to the right person."

Just then, Tommy's mom appeared behind them. "Gendry, thank you for distracting my son some. But I insist he eats before running off again."

Tommy groaned loudly, but Gendry looked up at him. "You heard your mum. Down you go," he said, bending slightly so Tommy could clamber off. "We'll have plenty of time later, don't you worry."

"Plus, you wouldn't want to get tired out before the fun begins, would you? You'll have to eat if you want to keep up," Arya put in.

Tommy's mother smiled gratefully at them, then followed her son as he made a beeline for the food.

"He's a sweet kid," Arya said softly. "Reminds me of ... well, me, actually."

Gendry laughed. "Why do you think I like him so much?" 

She looked at him, blue eyes twinkling and roguish smile firmly in place. Behind that, though, there was also a silent question.

She took his hand, kissing his palm lightly, and leaned into him. "He's definitely a handful, though," she said, trying to gauge his reaction.

His grip on her hand tightened and he placed a kiss on top of her head. "Nothing we couldn't handle."

Arya smiled into his tunic, her face pressed into his chest. She felt him tentatively stroke her back, trying to figure out if he'd said the right thing. When she felt the butterflies in her stomach settle, she leaned back slightly and met his hopeful eyes.

"Be careful what you wish for," she said, watching the understanding dawn on him, as his face split into a wide grin. They stood there smiling foolishly for a few more seconds before Tommy's yells brought them back to the present. The rest of their afternoon, though, neither could seem to explain why they couldn't wipe the smiles from their faces.


	10. Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya contemplates taking Gendry's last name.

Arya hacked at the wooden post with her sword, letting out her frustrations in the only way she knew how.

It was stupid. She had been consumed by the same thought for a few days now, and she couldn't seem to stop her mind from running in circles. She was marrying Gendry, that was certain. But had to go and be stupid and honorable and ask Sansa to legitimize him, the same way she'd done for Jon. Arya didn't want a _Baratheon_ , she wanted Gendry. Just Gendry. Thankfully, Sansa had held off and not done anything on the spot, preferring to converse with Arya first. And now Arya didn't know what to do. 

Having Gendry legitimized wouldn't make people stop talking, she knew that much. People would always gossip, no matter if there was no truth to it. But that shouldn't have been a problem - most of Winterfell knew Gendry, respected him for his work and help. They didn't care about names. It was the people outside Winterfell, the ones that dragged her family into their stupid _game_. They were the ones who would care, if he was Gendry Baratheon all of a sudden. No matter that he couldn't care less about the throne. Her father hadn't cared either, and they got him in the end. She wasn't about to let that happen to him.

She swung harder at the post, only stopping when she heard someone chuckling behind her. Arya turned, wiping sweat from her brow, to see Jon leaning against the fence. She smiled tiredly at her older brother. 

"Feel better?" He asked, grinning.

"For now." She sheathed her sword and sat down on the ground, leaning against the post.

Jon came over and sat next to her. For a while they sat in comfortable silence, until Arya huffed and laid her head on his shoulder. "You were there, weren't you? When the idiot walked in and asked Sansa to change his name?"

Jon's voice shook with barely concealed laughter. "Yes, I was there."

"Did he seem to want it? Did he want the name for himself?"

"Arya, all of Winterfell knows the only thing he wants is you."

Arya smiled softly. "Shut up," she said, but there was no force behind it.

"Can I ask you something?" Arya leaned back to meet Jon's eyes. "Would it be so bad, him having the Baratheon name? I think he could do good things with it."

She sighed. That was the other part of what had been bothering her. It was the possibility of what Gendry could bring to a name that had been so tainted over the past few years. She would be proud of that, of course, especially knowing that her father was best friends with a Baratheon as well.

"It's not that I don't know that. I know he would make that name respectable again. It's just..." she trailed off, unsure of how to explain herself.

Jon nudged her. "Just what? Talk to me, Arya."

"It's Dad." Arya looked down, playing with the hem of her tunic. "Part of me hates Gendry for even asking for the name, only because I know how happy it would have made Dad, to see a union between his family and his best friend's. It'd be what he'd always wanted for us."

"But?" Jon prodded her.

"I'm afraid of what it'll mean for Gendry. They won't leave him alone, Jon. " He didn't have to ask who. "And I don't want...I don't want that for him." 

Jon sighed. "Arya, Dad only wanted to see you happy. You know he would have approved of your choice as long as it was what you wanted." He made her look at him. "It's what we all want now. Sansa didn't legitimize Gendry because she knew you were happy the way things were. Gendry only asked because he thought it would make things easier for you and us."

Arya sighed. "I know he did. He thinks of everyone but himself."

Jon smiled, then turned sly. "Frankly, I think Dad would be so astonished that you're even marrying, he wouldn't give a damn what name you took." He laughed when she punched him on the arm.

His voice became serious again. "Was the thing about Dad the only thing stopping you from becoming Mrs. Waters?"

Arya blushed furiously at the question, feeling the heat spread down her neck and hating that she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face. Jon laughed at her reaction and grinned. "Well, that's my answer."

"Shut up," Arya shoved him. He was still laughing softly. 

"I think I'd make a good blacksmith's wife," she said softly, more to herself than anything else. But Jon heard her.

"Then why don't you go tell your blacksmith that?" He smiled at her. He was right - Gendry was _hers_ , and she was his. Names wouldn't change that.

Suddenly, Arya couldn't move fast enough. She hugged Jon quickly and nearly tripped over her own feet in her mad dash to the forge. She pushed the door open and walked in, stopping when she saw Gendry at work. She was overcome by a wave of nervousness, suddenly, and the words got stuck in her throat. He looked up and must have seen something on her face, because he put the hammer down and pulled off his apron, coming to stand in front of her.

"Hi, you," he said softly. She loved the way he said that. Like there could be no one else.

"Hi," she whispered. His blue eyes were concerned. _He thinks something's wrong,_ she realized. She cleared her throat, trying to think of the right words.

"Do you want to be a Baratheon?" she asked instead. "Don't answer because of what you think it means for us. Do _you_ want the name?"

She saw his face change, and knew his answer before the decision to answer truly flashed across his face. "No," he sighed. "I don't want it."

Arya nodded. "Good. I thought so."

His blue eyes were still staring at her with uncertainty. "Is it? Good, I mean."

Arya realized she hadn't answered his question properly.

"You promise, no more nonsense of changing your name?"

He nodded. She let out a breath and smiled shakily at him.

"Now, will you make me Mrs. Waters or not, stupid?" Arya's voice caught on the last word.

Gendry's eyes lit up and his lips crashed into hers as an answer. She held onto him tightly, meeting his tongue with the same ferocity. They gasped into each other's mouths, kissing fiercely and urgently. Eventually, it turned into a slower, deeper kiss that held both their silent vows to each other.

When they finally broke apart for air, Gendry smiled and rested his forehead against hers, whispering, "I thought you'd never ask."


	11. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry's first kiss. Kind of a continuation of my first chapter of this drabble set, "Unexpected." But not really necessary to read that first - unless you want to, of course :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and, I'm kind of ignoring that Gendry was her target in that first chapter...it doesn't really service the story I want to tell here.

It had been a few weeks since he'd found her, on the docks in Braavos. They'd stood there for what seemed like forever - yet not long enough - Arya thought, just holding each other, and remembering.

Now, as she walked next to Gendry's tall form, taking several short steps to match his long ones, she marveled at how far she'd come in such a short time. After they'd gotten over the initial shock and emotion of seeing each other again, Arya had remembered that there were eyes and ears everywhere. She would know- up until a few minutes before, she'd been one of them. Gendry was determined not to let her go a second time, though, and put up a fight at her suggestion to separate and meet elsewhere.

"No. I didn't come all this way just to lose you again, Arya," he said, jaw stubbornly set.

"You idiot," she whispered fiercely, ignoring the slight twitch of his lips and how happy it made her feel to see it. "You've already attracted enough attention. I promise I'll meet you. I swear it. I just have to get something first."

"Let me come with you." 

"I can't. I don't want you near there." Her voice became pleading. "Please, Gendry." Something else crossed his face for a moment, too quick for her to pick up, and then it was gone. She opened her mouth to say something more, but he held up a hand.

"You've got 'til sunset, then I'll come looking for you. You pick the place."

Arya sighed in relief and chose one of the abandoned buildings in the city, not too far from the docks. He nodded, then shifted on his feet, looking unsure. She realized she was just as reluctant to leave him as he her. _One of us has to go or we'll be like this the whole day_ , she thought. She nodded at Gendry once and turned to go, her throat too tight to say anything else. 

A few steps away, she turned around, feeling his blue eyes still on her. He hadn't moved. She swallowed and walked back up to him, surprising herself by putting her hand up to his neck to draw his head down to hers. She leaned her forehead against his, as he had done earlier, watching as his eyes closed and and he let out a breath. 

"I promise. I'll see you soon," she whispered.

His eyes opened and he leaned forward even more, brushing her nose lightly with his. "I'll hold you to that."

This time when she left, so did he. And she had showed up hours later, as promised, holding Needle tightly alongside a small rucksack. This time when she saw him, he didn't hesitate to lift her up off the ground, sword and all, and she held onto him just as tightly.

After that, they'd crossed the Narrow Sea again on a return trip to Westeros. Gendry fell back into his place as her protector easily, as if he'd never left. Now, they were traveling through Westeros, stopping at various inns when it got too cold to be outside. Walking next to him now, Arya realized they hadn't really touched since that day. Now and then he would offer a helping hand or they would brush against each other, but nothing more. Their conversation flowed easily, since they were avoiding a lot of the harder subjects. But Arya couldn't stop noticing him, couldn't stop wondering at how much he'd changed and yet remained her bull. 

Gendry had never been one to converse quickly or freely, but Arya noticed now he carried himself with a quiet confidence, and when he did speak it was worth listening to. He was even stronger now, having continued smithing in the years they were apart. Arya wondered how much she had changed, and what he thought. She was still amazed at her own actions, having dropped everything for this boy from her past. But he wasn't just a boy. He was Gendry, and he'd come to find her, to remind her she was still Arya.

Maybe that was why it bothered her that all the other women kept taking notice of him. Almost everywhere they ran into people, there was at least one stupid girl or another, mooning over him from afar. The ones that got close either met Arya's glare or Gendry's disinterest and huffed off. That was another thing that bothered her. Gendry was no longer the boy who blushed or embarrassed as easily. It just seemed to spur all the other women on. Arya shook her head, trying to get rid of thoughts that would surely lead to no good.

That night, they stopped at an inn again. Just like the nights before, a couple of girls tried to flirt with Gendry, putting Arya in a sullen mood. He just laughed off their advances and tried to get Arya to talk, but she was annoyed with him and the girls and annoyed at herself for being annoyed. Her head hurt from everything, so she just begged off, saying she needed some rest. Going upstairs, though, she found herself restless and unable to sleep, so she slipped downstairs and out the back for a walk outside. 

The cool night air was refreshing. _Get a grip on yourself_ , Arya thought. _You're not Sansa, mooning over boys left and right._ But her traitorous side reminded her that this was not just a boy. He was Gendry, and she wanted him to be hers and nobody else's. The thought stopped her in her tracks, and she stood there for a moment, facing her realization.

His voice startled Arya out of her thoughts, and she whipped around, braid flying with her, to see where he could be. The stables. She definitely heard it from there. She walked in slowly, boots crunching on the hay and making enough noise, just in case...she didn't want to think about what might be happening. But when she rounded the stall where their horse was, she saw Gendry on the ground, checking the shoes.

He looked up, surprised. "Arya?" He stood to his full height and came out of the stall. "I thought you'd gone to bed?"

Arya suddenly felt shy and silly about her behavior earlier. "Couldn't sleep," she said softly, avoiding his eyes. "The horse okay?"

He frowned but didn't comment on her change of subject. "Yeah, he'll be alright for a while." 

She nodded, scuffing her boot on the ground. "Surprised you're not with one of those girls," she tried to joke, but her voice wavered a little. Gendry frowned again and stepped closer. 

"Now why would you be surprised about that?" he asked quietly.

"I...I just... I am, that's all," she stuttered, unsure of why he kept getting closer and why she couldn't seem to move.

"Really? Because I seem to remember spending every night with you lately." Gendry stopped right in front of her, looking down questioningly and more than a little amused.

Arya felt angry. How could he not see why she was annoyed? Or was he just playing with her? Either way, he was being stupid and she wanted to end the conversation.

"Never mind, then. I don't know why I brought it up," Arya made to move but he moved with her, blocking her way.

"Not so fast, milady." _Seven hells._ "Why _did_ you bring it up, then?" Arya stared at him, surprised at his boldness. Unsure of how to answer, she just looked at him, noticing how his blue eyes were a little darker and full of...something. _Hope_. She tried to ignore the tingly feeling spreading throughout her, focusing on speaking properly.

"So what, I'm not allowed to ask you questions, then?"

"We both know that's not what this is about."

Arya wanted to hit him in frustration. "Then what _is_ it about, Gendry?" There was that look again, on his face, just like in Braavos. 

Gendry ran a hand through his hair. "It's about you knowing that I wasn't going to ever be with any of those girls in the inn, just like you're not gonna be with some lord or the next who wants you. Isn't that right?"

There it was. Arya gaped at him. He was strung tight as a bow, right in front of her, the energy coming off him in waves, but he still looked so unsure of himself despite his words. She realized suddenly that he was looking for confirmation. For her to tell him that everything he was saying was true.

Arya reached up on her tiptoes and locked her hands around his neck, bringing his head down and putting her lips on his. For a moment, they stood like that, and then Arya pulled away. _Seven hells, I hope I did that right._ Gendry was staring at her, a myriad of emotions crossing his face.

She bit her lip, trying to explain herself. "That...I'm not sure if I did that right, but I just wanted-"

She yelped as he reached out and pulled her to him, his lips slanting warmly over hers. Arya wound her arms around his neck again, trying to pull herself as close as possible, as his arms encased her just as tightly. _I definitely did not do that right,_ Arya thought giddily. _But I'll learn_. One of Gendry's hands cupped her neck and she sighed into the kiss, opening her mouth and then gasping as his tongue touched hers. Gendry pulled away, misunderstanding, but her hands moved to his vest and pulled him back, whispering "no" before their lips collided again. He sucked lightly on her bottom lip and she was grateful he was holding her up, her legs having long since turned to jelly. This time, when he pulled away, she buried her face in his shoulder. Gendry held her for a moment, then swept her up, chuckling at her yelp.

"Just hang on a minute," he told her. He walked to the wall opposite the stalls and sat down, leaning back against it with Arya curled up in his lap. She lifted her face from his shoulder and bit her lip, looking at him. He groaned and kissed her again solidly, then pulled back.

"I can't not kiss you when you do that," he whispered. 

Arya smiled slyly. "Good. I'll never stop it, then." She smiled even wider at his shout of laughter, which spooked some of the horses. Arya snuggled further into him, content to stay this way the whole night. Gendry seemed to have the same idea, continuing to press light kisses on her face. They spent the night in the stables, Arya learning even more about kissing and Gendry finding out she was still ticklish.

In the morning, Gendry's hair stuck up in every direction and Arya's lips were full and sore, but neither could stop touching the other for very long. As she leaned against him during breakfast, Arya was satisfied to see none of the women try to come near them. Gendry noticed her smug look and chuckled quietly, wrapping an arm around her. Her smile turned sheepish and she bit her lip. Gendry raised his eyebrow at her and grinned.


	12. Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU - Arya and Gendry, established relationship, attend a wedding together.

Arya looked around the huge tent that was set up for her cousin's wedding. There were chairs everywhere, slowly being filled by people dressed to the nines in all their finery. She herself was in a dress, thankfully one of her own choosing, with her long, dark hair loose and falling over her shoulders. It was silvery-grey and silky, with thick straps on her shoulders that created a V-neckline. The dress was fitted to her waist, and then flared to her knees. It had been an impulse buy.

When she had tried it on with her sister, Sansa had smiled softly and twirled her once, and the dress moved with her. Although she would never admit it to him, all she had been able to think about was Gendry twirling her in much the same way. So she had bought it. 

It had been completely worth the look on his face when he picked her up. She almost missed it, so busy was she looking at him similarly. He had rented a suit, but she was going to try to convince him to keep it. It fit him perfectly, stretching over his broad shoulders. He had smiled at her softly and leaned in for a kiss, which turned into more kisses, which turned into them catching a later cab to the wedding.

Arya felt Gendry's large, warm hand (he was always so warm) slide into her own, fingers intertwining with hers. She looked up at him to see a small grin on his face.

"Stop that," she admonished, unable to keep the smile from her face.

"Stop what?"

"You know what. You keep looking at me like that and I'll be picking leaves out of my hair again. Do you want a repeat of the engagement party?"

He raised an eyebrow "Well..."

She laughed and shook her head. "Don't answer that." 

His laughter mingled with hers. They stood for a few minutes looking at the tent, and all the people filtering in, before Gendry broke the silence.

“Getting ideas for your own big day?”

“What?!” Arya whipped around to look at him. “No … I … you …” His face split into a sly grin. “You’re teasing me!” 

She blushed furiously and started hitting him anywhere she could. He laughed and only mildly tried to fend her off. Arya stepped closer, grabbing his tie to pull him down. “Just for that, I get to pick the song for the first dance.” She gave him a sweet smile then turned on her heel, walking away and enjoying the gobsmacked expression on Gendry’s face.

A few steps later, he put an arm around her waist and pulled her back into his chest, resting his head on her shoulder.

“As long as I’m the one you’re dancing with, I don’t care what song it is,” he whispered.

Arya’s breath caught, and her legs turned to jelly. _Damn him._ Damn him for always being able to catch her off guard so that she couldn’t move. Or breathe. Or think. When she had regained some semblance of normality, she let out a breath and turned her face up to meet his.

“Deal.”


	13. Sweater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU, established relationship, fluff. Arya & Gendry at school/uni.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure where all of this modern stuff is coming from lately, except that I really want a Gendry. Or Joe.

Arya slung her bag over her shoulder and joined the throng of kids heading out of the lecture hall. It was her last class on Friday, finally. She smiled as she ducked and weaved among the students, able to movie quickly through the crowd thanks to her small stature. _The one time everyone wishes they were as small as I am_ , she thought.

She squeezed through the door and out into the fresh, chilly fall air. She was in a t-shirt and jeans, but didn't mind the weather. In fact, she welcomed it. A breeze played with her long hair, which was not braided, for once. Running late this morning from Gendry's, she'd barely had time to shower. _Speaking of..._ Arya walked down the stairs and grinned, seeing Gendry leaning against the bike posts.

His blue eyes smiled as they found her in the crowd, oblivious to the other looks being thrown his way. Arya could see why. He was built like a jock, having worked long hours as a mechanic with his foster father during his youth. But most people didn't know that last bit. The girls just saw another piece of eye candy. Arya knew the story behind him, and learned something new almost every day around him. It was one of her favorite parts of their relationship. It was constantly challenging and unpredictable, but built on a strong bond from childhood. 

She hopped down the last step and walked up to meet him, her steps light.

"Hey you, long time no see," Gendry teased.

Arya stuck her tongue out. "Must be nice not having class on Friday."

Gendry stretched exaggeratedly. "Well, you know, senior privilege and all..." He grinned mischievously and winked. 

"Shut it, you're only a junior," Arya said, but smiled despite herself.

Gendry laughed outright and threw his arm around her shoulder, hugging her close to him. He stroked her arm for a second, then pulled away abruptly.

"What's wrong?" Arya asked.

"You're freezing!" He started to unzip his black hoodie.

"What? No, I'm fine," Arya argued, rubbing her arms. She felt fine.

"Arya...come on." Gendry took one of her hands in both of his. "Your hand's like a block of ice! Can't you feel that?"

"But...well, you're always hot!" Gendry's lips twitched upwards as Arya rushed onwards. "Of course I feel cold to you. This is my normal temperature."

Gendry shook his head and unzipped his hoodie, shrugging out of it and handing it to her. 

"Seriously, you don't need to...I'm really fine..." Arya protested feebly, but it was no use. He just looked at her, holding out the sweater, until she gave an exasperated sigh and grabbed it. He grinned as she pulled it on, and swept his hands under her hair to pull it out from under the hood. She smiled softly and pushed the sleeves up slightly. Damn, but it was comfortable. It was overly large, but she didn't feel silly or lost inside it. Instead, she felt like a girl wearing her boyfriend's sweater. It was warm and soft and very... _Gendry_. 

She zipped up the front, shoved her hands in the pockets and looked up at his pleased face. "Happy?" 

Gendry smiled, his eyes both amused and adoring all at once."Very." He leaned down and kissed her firmly, putting his arm back around her as they started walking.

"Won't you be cold?" Arya asked.

He grinned slyly. "I'll be fine. Apparently, I'm pretty hot." He laughed as she hit his side, his arm, whatever she could reach, her cheeks burning.

But she kept his sweater on for the rest of the day (and many days after), and he didn't ask for it back.


	14. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yet another modern AU. Hurricane Sandy + questionable wildlife caught in my vents = new chapter!

Arya giggled and pressed closer to Gendry, burrowing her face in his t-shirt. His hand was stroking her long hair, now and then following it to her waist and tickling her there. He was stretched out on his bed with her half on top of him. They'd taken shelter at his house after it started raining on their date, after which Arya got frantic calls from her parents, explaining the hurricane watch had turned into a warning, and clearly, a full-blown storm. So she decided to stay where she was. Gendry had no complaints.

At first, it was just rain and wind, and the two of them spent the time talking and kissing and teasing. As the wind started to beat the rain harder against the windows, Arya felt Gendry tense momentarily, but she decided to ignore it. Until the lightning made him dig his hand into her waist and shut his eyes, not letting go until the following boom of thunder had stopped. 

"Hey," Arya whispered. She smiled when he opened his eyes and went back to stroking her hair. "What was that all about?"

Gendry tried to smile and failed. "It's nothing."

"That was most certainly not nothing." Arya pulled herself up so she was nose-to-nose with Gendry. "Come on. Out with it."

He sighed. "I just...I don't like storms." 

Arya stared at him. "How did I not know this?"

"It's not exactly something you want to tell your girlfriend," Gendry laughed nervously. "Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"

"Says who?" Arya smacked his arm lightly, making him laugh more and pull her closer. "Seriously, how did I miss this?"

"Well I wasn't advertising it," Gendry said. "It's just...always been a fear of mine."

"Why?"

He shook his head. "Leave it alone."

"No." 

Gendry huffed. "Must you know everything?"

"About you? Yes," she answered, undeterred.

He studied her for a few seconds before a corner of his mouth turned up, and she knew she'd won.

"I guess I associate these storms with some of my less favorite moments." 

Arya waited, but he didn't elaborate any further. She opened her mouth, ready to keep grilling him, then hesitated at the look in his eyes. There was something incredibly sad in his expression, something she didn't want to force out of him. Arya knew what it was like to have secrets. She wanted to know Gendry's, but only when he was ready to tell her himself.

So instead, she grinned mischievously and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "I guess we'll just have to start making some new moments, then." 

She started kissing down his neck slowly, biting softly here and there. It wasn't long before she was flipped on her back and he was looming over her, fitting his mouth to hers. Just as she was slipping her hands under his shirt, a loud crack of thunder sounded outside. She felt his muscles tense as he broke the kiss for a second, resting his forehead against hers. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, eyes closed.

Arya hugged him close, trailing her fingers up and down his spine soothingly.

"Don't worry," she whispered back. "I'll protect you."


	15. Uncertain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ADwD, Arya & Gendry have returned to Winterfell and helped Sansa reclaim her title and their home, but Gendry is still unsure about where he stands with Arya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got back to this! I had my first taste of season 3 from the featurette last night, and it seems to have thrown all my otp feels into overdrive, so here we go again! :)  
> (Also as a completely random side note, I was thinking during this chapter how much Arya & Gendry are like (or could be like) Anastasia and Dimitri from the kids movie (my favorite) Anastasia. He helps her find her family, they constantly argue but fall in love, the princess life isn't for her...I'm rambling.) On with it!

Gendry pounded the steel with his hammer, easily sinking into a rhythm of blows that let him think about very little else. Especially her. It was all he could do to keep his mind off Arya these days. Here in the forge, it was a little easier to forget that Arya was only a few steps away, just as she was every day now that they had reclaimed Winterfell. 

He could still remember his shock at finding her in Braavos, the stroke of luck that he couldn't believe had come his way, and yet had been praying for throughout his voyage. At first, she looked just as he remembered, just taller. Her eyes were still the same, strong and steely grey, and her wit had only become sharper. Her hair was longer, too. He loved her long hair, although he hadn't told her so. And although she was still dressed in boy's clothing, he noticed other things about her body, too. He just hadn't realized that others also noticed, not until after they had won the battle for Winterfell and Sansa insisted on parading Arya around in dresses most of the days.

Initially, the adrenaline and cleanup that had come after the battle had afforded Arya and Gendry a lot of time together. They worked as a team, as they always had, and for a long time both kept on pretending that wouldn't change. Their time together on their return trip from Braavos had been quiet and uncertain for both of them, although both knew it was right. But they hadn't talked about anything beyond that. Their focus had been getting Winterfell back, and then the rebuilding. Gendry knew he was avoiding the topic, but he wasn't sure if Arya was avoiding it by choice or because of sheer obliviousness. 

Then, when Sansa was crowned Queen of Winterfell, she insisted that Arya take on some duties as Princess as well. Arya had resisted, but as Gendry later found out, Sansa had insisted it would be in Winterfell's best interests, just as their parents would have wanted. As much as Arya wanted to fight her, she couldn't fight the argument, low blow as it was.

So instead she spent her evenings in the forge, often bringing Gendry snacks stolen from the kitchen as she pestered him with questions about what she was missing. At first he used to tell stories about the villagers, but seeing the light in her eyes dim as she realized how much she'd missed made him stop that soon enough. Instead, he gave her the short version and asked her more about her family, about Rickon, and Jon, and her plans to become a fighting instructor. He continued to work, making armor for the knights and also repairs for the villagers, while she talked. Her voice was soothing (something else he hadn't told her), and in those moments he could pretend this would be their life.

But his reverie was always disrupted by her showing up at the forge before or after an event, in a fancy dress laced up tightly in the back. As much as the mud on the hem or her wild hair would make him smile, the dress would always be a sharp reminder that they were from different worlds. One such night, Arya was plowing on about the unnecessary things Sansa put up with and, unthinkingly, mentioned a drunk lord's wandering hands on her. Gendry missed his mark completely and the steel bent into some undefinable shape. Arya had stopped mid-sentence and stared at him, as he stood at the table, fists clenched until he was sure he wasn't going to go find the stupid bugger. After that, there was no mention of drunk men, or dancing, but Gendry never forgot.

So on one such night, he tried to lose himself in his work, and it worked for a time. When he finally stopped and looked around, he was startled to see Sansa in the doorway.

"Your Grace?" He didn't mean for it to come out as a question, but there it was.

Sansa laughed softly. "Hello, Gendry. I'm sorry to interrupt."

"Not at all." Gendry shook his head, putting aside the new steel and wiping his hands on his apron before removing it. "May I ask...what brings you here?"

Sansa's smile dimmed as she moved further into the forge, and she wrapped her arms around herself, looking around. "Arya spends a lot of time here, does she not?"

Gendry wasn't sure what to make of that, so he decided to stay with the truth. "I suppose so, yes. Is there a problem?"

"Oh no, not at all!" Sansa's hands went up reassuringly. "I only ask because...I feel like I'm losing her, Gendry." Her voice shook and she sighed and sat down on a bench. "I know she talks to you. Is she terribly unhappy here? With me?"

Gendry was startled by the sadness he saw in her eyes. It prompted him to be slightly more brave, if only to help Arya.

"It's not that she's unhappy with you, Your Grace, but with what she's doing here." Gendry paused. "May I ask, why did you ask Arya to fulfill her duties as Princess rather than let her help out another way?"

"I thought she would want to leave," Sansa replied quietly. "I had lost her once, and I didn't want it to happen again. This was all I could think of. I just wanted to have my sister back."

Gendry was silent for a long time before responding. "All this time, Arya's felt useful, she's had a purpose. Whether it was finding you or taking back your home or helping to rebuild, she was involved fully, in her own way. Your purpose is to help also, but in a completely different way, one that makes Arya feel quite useless." He paused, unsure about his next words. _Ah hell, you've come this far, Waters._ "Have you thought about making Arya one of your guards?"

Sansa tilted her head, considering his words. "You really think she'd agree to that, after all this?" 

"You're her sister. No matter what, that's not changing. This way, you can still see each other, but maybe you won't butt heads so much." Sansa smiled wryly, and Gendry had to grin back. "Alright, maybe you will. But Arya will feel useful again. These are situations she knows how to handle, and she will feel helpful. Plus, it will free up some time for her to help with the rebuilding and being an instructor."

Sansa stood up, a smile forming on her face. "You know my sister better than anyone, don't you?" 

Gendry looked down sheepishly. "It's nothing." 

"No." Something in her voice made him look up. "It's most definitely _not_ nothing, Gendry."

He blinked, unsure of what to say. Sansa looked at him curiously. "Why haven't you said anything to her?"

"Because I know how the world works, Your Grace," Gendry smiled bitterly. "High-born ladies don't marry bastard smiths."

"How many times do I have to tell you? _I am no lady!_ " Gendry and Sansa both jumped in surprise as Arya marched towards them from the back of the forge. Gendry had to fight to keep the smile off his face. Her hair was wild and loose about her face, and she was back in her usual belted tunic, leggings and boots. "You!" She smacked Gendry on the arm as soon as she got within reach. "You are an idiot. A stupid, stupid..." She threw her hands up and turned to Sansa, but not before Gendry noticed her grey eyes were unusually bright. 

"You. You should have known better than to try and make a lady out of me." She gave her sister a quick, tight hug nonetheless. "He's right. Let me be part of your guard. I swear I can do better there."

Sansa smiled and kissed Arya on the cheek. "We'll talk more about this tomorrow. Promise." She clasped Arya's hand tight before giving Gendry a pointed look and leaving the forge, closing the door behind her.

Arya whirled back to face him, her eyes still bright. Gendry noticed her hands were trembling slightly as well, before she crossed her arms in front of her to hide it. "Idiot," she hissed. 

"So you keep telling me," he answered, smiling softly. 

"Stop smiling!" She gave his chest a shove, which did nothing to move him. "Why didn't you tell me?" He heard the uncertainty in her voice, and realized what she was afraid of.

"Because I didn't think it was possible that you felt the same, or that we could even be together if you did." 

Arya moved closer, quieter now. "How could I not feel the same? I wouldn't leave Braavos for just anyone. You...you're Gendry. My Gendry." Her fingers curled into his tunic. He tentatively reached a hand up to stroke her cheek, and smiled when her eyes closed. 

"Exactly. And you're Arya. We're Arya and Gendry. I didn't want to lose what we had all on a guess." 

"Stupid," she mumbled half-heartedly.

"Arya, look at me." Gendry waited until she opened her eyes. "I'm a bastard. I always have been and I always will be. Are you absolutely sure you're alright with that? I need to know. It's important to me."

She looked at him for a time, before her face melted into a sweet smile. "I never wanted to be a lady."

Gendry closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath, unable to believe what was happening. He felt a slight tug on his tunic, and then the featherlight touch of lips on his cheek, then on his other cheek, and the corners of his mouth. He opened his eyes briefly to see Arya watching him, and finally pulled her in for a kiss. He knew he'd never be able to get enough.


	16. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The usual - post ADWD, back at Winterfell with Queen Sansa. A/G sort of established relationship. Sansa (and others) keep seeing Arya return from the forge early in the morning, despite the fact that she has her own room in the castle. Sansa confronts her, but doesn't get the response she expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has been a while! life has been crazy, but I finally made time to write this. hope you like! :)

Arya walked up the path to the castle, her dark hair swinging behind her in a braid, boots crunching in the snow. She hadn't brought a change of clothes. Why bother, when her cloak and coat would cover everything anyways? It was too cold to be outside without them. She hurried up the steps and made her way to her room, hoping to be ready soon to meet Sansa. It was her turn to sit in on the meetings today.

When she got to her room, though, she saw she needn't have hurried at all. Sansa sat on her bed, dressed in a simple blue gown, her hair loose around her shoulders. Arya sighed and shut the door, beginning to remove her cloak and outer coat. 

"What are you doing here?" She asked, even though she already knew.

"Waiting for you. Where have you been all night?"

Arya laughed and turned to face her sister. "As if you don't know." 

Sansa pursed her lips then sighed, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead for a moment before looking back up at Arya. "People are talking, Arya."

Arya rolled her eyes, and Sansa fought the urge to smile at the habit. "People always find something to talk about, you know that. Why do you care what they say?"

"I'm not concerned about what they say!" Sansa protested. When Arya rolled her eyes again and made to turn away, Sansa scrambled off the bed. "It's true! Arya, I just came here to make sure you're alright. That's all, I swear it."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Arya crossed her arms and stared at Sansa. "You know better than anyone, I can take care of myself." 

"I know that, I do." Sansa fiddled with her fingers, trying not to make it worse. "I just...he's so big and strong...are you sure? He didn't force you, or anything?"

Arya's mouth opened slightly and she stared at Sansa for a moment before bursting into laughter. Sansa took a step back, unsure how to handle this turn of events. Arya sat on the bed as her laughter subsided, brushing her hands over her eyes and trying to catch her breath. 

"That...that might have been the best joke I've ever heard." When Sansa continued to stare at her, puzzled, Arya's grin turned mischievous. "Just what exactly do you think we're doing at night, Sansa?"

She was rewarded by a flush creeping up Sansa's neck into her cheeks, to the tip of her ears. To her credit, though, Sansa stood her ground and met her gaze. Arya chuckled again and decided to let her sister off the hook. 

"I did try to sleep here a few nights. I truly did. I did everything I could to stay busy and tire myself out so I would sleep soundly." Arya sighed. "But, nothing seemed to stop the nightmares. At first, I would just move around, try to distract myself. That didn't work for very long. So I started going to the forge." Arya looked up at Sansa. "During the war, neither Gendry nor I could sleep, so we would just talk. Tell each other stories, jokes...anything. So when I found him awake also, we just picked up where we left off. And before I knew it, I was waking up on his cot." Arya raised her eyebrows. "Alone, I might add. He took the floor. Anyways, no more nightmares."

Sansa's mouth formed an "o" before she smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry. It wasn't fair of me to assume anything about you." 

Arya shrugged. "Thank you. Though I do appreciate your asking. But just for the record, if I ever did take him on, I would win." 

Sansa laughed. "I have no doubt." She turned to go, then, feeling playful, faced Arya once more, raising one eyebrow. "So that's _all_ you did, then? Just talk?"

Arya gaped at her for a second, then began to laugh again. "Well of course, sister. What _else_ is there to do?" She smiled widely at Sansa- a true smile.

Sansa grinned back, making a note to get Gendry that apprentice he'd been after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda got stuck on how to end it XD


	17. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ADwd, companion to chapter 16, "Sleep." Arya can't sleep, and finds Gendry at the forge.

Arya kicked her stool in frustration, having bumped into it twice now during her water dance. It was late at night, and the third night in a row she'd woken up in a sweat from nightmares. This time, it had been about Gendry. Before, it had been Rickon, then Sansa. 

"The war is over, stupid," she kept telling herself. It wasn't working. She tried to distract herself by moving through her water dance, something that usually settled her mind. Instead, she was completely off balance. Arya huffed and pulled on her boots, overcoat and cloak, sticking a dagger on her belt and one in each boot. 

_I'm not going to see him. I'm just going for a walk. I need some fresh air._

As she stepped outside the castle, her eyes were drawn to the forge, where a small light still shone. She sighed. _Seven hells._

Arya approached the forge slowly, her boots crunching on the fresh snow. She stopped at the door, suddenly unsure if she should continue. _Get a grip! You're a warrior!_ She rapped on the door twice with her knuckles before she could over-think it any longer. She heard him come slowly to the door and open the latch, and then the door was open and Gendry's blue eyes were staring at her questioningly.

"Arya?"

She clenched her fists. "Of course it's me, stupid." 

"Since when do you knock?"

Arya opened her mouth to retort, then realized, she had no answer for that. Why _had_ she knocked? She cleared her throat, preparing to reply, when she felt his hand on her face. Gently, he pushed her hair back and tucked it around her ear, tracing her jaw slightly before pulling away. 

"What's wrong, Arya?"

Arya swallowed, suddenly feeling a lump in her throat. "Nightmares," she said quietly. 

Gendry's face softened, like it always seemed to around her, and he took her hand and pulled her inside the forge. He didn't let go until she was seated cross-legged on the bench by the fire- her usual spot. 

"Be right back," he said, disappearing into the back. Arya took off her cloak and loosened her coat, resting her head against the wall. She was already feeling better. The forge always felt comforting to her, but she knew that had more to do with Gendry than she wanted to admit. As if called by her thoughts, he reappeared with two steaming mugs of tea, handing one to her. She smiled gratefully and took a sip as he sat on the bench next to her. He studied the mug for a moment, then looked back at her. 

"Want to talk about it?"

Arya shook her head. "No, not ... not right now. But..." she trailed off, biting her lip. "I would like to talk."

Gendry nodded, then leaned back against the wall and stretched his long legs out. "Alright. You first."

Arya began talking about the kids she was training, explaining the moves she was teaching them. He asked about Syrio, and she smiled, remembering her first instructor. Gendry talked of the Brotherhood, and the men who had taught him how to fight. Their conversation wandered, and sometimes stalled in companionable silence, and Arya realized it had been a long time since they'd been able to talk like this. Finally, their mugs long empty on the floor, she asked him what had been on her mind since he opened the door.

"Why are you still awake?" 

"Couldn't sleep." 

"But why?"

"Dunno. I can't keep my eyes shut very long without something bad happening, so I just stop trying." 

Arya studied him in the dim light. _He looks as tired as I feel._ She put her hand on his arm, unsure of what to say. He looked down at her arm then back up at her, slightly surprised. She pulled herself closer and knotted her fingers with his, resting her head against the wall and closing her eyes. He squeezed her hand slightly, and she smiled softly, content. 

When she woke, it was still dark, but daylight would soon be fighting its way in. She was no longer on the bench, but on Gendry's cot, covered in her cloak and a blanket. She sat up and swung her legs off the cot, intending to find Gendry, and nearly tripped over him in the process.

"Ow! Seven hells, Arya, what are you doing?" Gendry groaned from the floor.

"Stupid!" Arya hissed. "I was looking for you! What are you doing down there?"

"Well, I _was_ sleeping..."

"Gendry," she sighed.

"You fell asleep. So I put you there and lay down here. And it was a real good sleep, I might add."

She still couldn't see his face in the darkness, but she hoped he was being truthful. "Mine too. Now get up here."

_"What?!"_

Arya had to laugh. He sounded so scandalized. "Oh seven hells, I'm not going to bite. But this cot is big enough for two, and you need to rest as much as I do."

"But it's not proper, or-"

"Do you think I really care about that?"

"But I-"

"Please, Gendry." That quieted him for a moment.

"Alright," he sighed. "But you sleep against the wall. I don't want you falling off and having to explain those bruises."

Arya smiled and shuffled back on the cot, feeling it move as Gendry laid down, his back to her.

She shifted closer to him, then put one arm around his waist. He stiffened.

"So you don't fall off," she whispered. He laughed softly, finally relaxing as his hand covered hers.

"Good night, Arya."

"Good night, Gendry."


	18. Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya stays on with the Brotherhood and gets curious about the reasons behind Gendry's knighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New season 3 trailer. Too many feels. 
> 
> Also I have no idea what accent Lem has. It's late. I think he got southern in my mind at one point...apologies. And this went in an entirely different direction than planned...again, sorry. I just have too many feels.

Arya yawned widely and slumped down on the bench next to Gendry. Without a word, he pushed his plate over to her, still half-full with bread, fruit, and her favorite - a lemon cake. She smiled tiredly at him and he nodded, his blue eyes tracing her face in concern. She yawned again, and he bumped her shoulder with his slightly, his large pinky covering her small one briefly. Her stomach flipped, and she focused on the food, hoping it would stop the weird feelings that kept taking over whenever Gendry was around. 

Arya was over six-and-ten now, and still traveling with the Brotherhood Without Banners. When Gendry had taken a knighthood with Beric years ago, she had been upset, thinking yet another person had chosen duty over her. All his attempts to explain himself were met with stony silence on her part. But after days of not speaking to him, she realized she missed him. The same day, they ran into a pack of bandits, and any feud between them was put aside to fight and protect each other. After that, they'd sheepishly returned to their old friendship without any mention of their argument. 

Lately, though, Arya had been itching to ask him why he'd done it. She wasn't sure why it was so important that she know. But she had a feeling that it was the missing piece to her puzzle, something that would make it all click. She knew she and Gendry spent a lot of time together - that was how it had always been. Sure, she was older and so was he, but she hadn't seen any reason to look at things differently until she noticed Anguy and Lem watching them one day. She tried to ask Gendry about it, but he'd brushed it off and continued his work. She did, however, make a note that his ears had turned slightly red.

Now, finishing her breakfast, she watched him talk with the other men. She was always surprised at how well Gendry fit into the Brotherhood, this boisterous group of men. But his quiet strength seemed to anchor them, and he still cracked a smile or two at their stories. It was hard not to. She had been so worried about losing him, when he was knighted. Sometimes she still felt silly about the way she'd acted, but she knew if there was a chance of losing him again, she would probably react the same way. Arya wondered when she had come to think of him as _her_ Gendry. 

As if called by her thoughts, he turned to offer her a small smile before depositing more berries on her plate. She grinned and, feeling her face flush slightly, looked away - straight at Anguy and Lem, who pretended to have not been watching them closely. She was again curious, but didn't want to bring it up so publicly. Little did she know, she wouldn't have to wonder much longer.

The next night, they were all sitting around after dinner when Lem and Anguy joined them, their faces flushed from too much wine. Arya was leaning slightly against Gendry, full from the meal and tired from the day's work. Gendry was stretched out, one arm behind her for support. Arya didn't read too much into this. She and Gendry knew each other well; they could read each other's moods quickly. It was why they worked well together. But Anguy and Lem had other ideas.

She was telling Gendry a joke one of the village kids had told her earlier, during her training class. Gendry chuckled and smiled at her and she smiled back, suddenly noticing how close they were.

"Well i'n't that cute," drawled Lem from nearby, startling them. 

"Seven hells," Gendry muttered quietly.

Arya stared at Lem, confused. "Anguy, look at this. I think our boy's finally grown a pair!" Lem yelled. He looked back at Arya. "Did he finally 'fess up to it? Because we've been telling him for months now-"

"Shut up, Lem." Gendry's voice was low and dangerous. 

Lem gulped but turned to Arya. "You should really ask him why he asked Ser Berric to knight him if all he was gonna do was work in the smithy." 

Arya looked at Gendry. His eyes were closed, as if he was having a bad dream. "What does that even have to do with me?"

Gendry stood up abruptly and walked away briskly. Lem gave her a loopy grin. "Exactly." 

Arya stood up and gave him a good shove, making sure he hit the ground and stayed there before turning to follow Gendry. She knew he'd go to the forge, just like he knew to find her at the training yard. When she got there, the door was already open, and Gendry was sitting on a bench staring at the fire.

"Should've known you'd follow me." His voice was tired, but not harsh.

"You can't get rid of me that easy, you know that." Arya shut the door behind her and sat next to him. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Arya trying to study him out of the corner of her eye and then reddening when he turned to look at her.

"Go ahead, I know you want to ask." 

She swallowed. "I do, but not because of Lem." Gendry raised an eyebrow. "I've been wanting to know for a while, but wasn't sure how to bring it up." 

Gendry sighed, then ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up everywhere. Arya had the absurd urge to smooth it down, so she clasped her hands together to stop herself.

“Most of my life, I’ve been pretty invisible, and that was fine with me. But then you showed up.” He smiled at her. “With your castle-forged sword that was almost as big as you.” Arya grinned. “You asked me to keep your secret. You trusted me, and you made me feel like I was someone. But then I realized, we’re from different worlds. When I asked Berric to knight me, it was because I wanted to be _someone_ again. Someone important enough to be near you. I didn’t want to lose my friend.”

Arya stared at him, and then let out a short laugh, meeting his startled eyes.

“And here I was, thinking you’d decided to leave me.” She smiled and shook her head.

His face dawned in recognition. “That’s why you were so upset with me.” 

She nodded, then took a deep breath. “Lem didn't sound like he was talking about just friendship back there, though.” She raised her eyes to meet his, wondering if he would acknowledge it.

His eyes showed surprise before he hung his head sheepishly. “No, I suppose he wasn’t.” He paused for a moment. “I’m not sure when it changed for me, but it did. You don’t have to worry, though. I won’t let it get in the way of anything.” 

Arya looked at him sitting next to her, shoulders taught and face drawn in acceptance. She unclasped her hands and ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He jumped slightly at the contact, but wouldn't face her. 

“Stupid,” she sighed. “Who said it was getting in the way?” She let her hand rest on his neck, stroking slightly until she saw his mouth curving up in a smile, and then he took her other hand in both of his, and she was smiling too.


	19. Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU - Arya is getting a crush on her TA, and she doesn't like it one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightlymaybeprobablydefinitely based on real life. Sadly though, in my world he's taken. But of course, Gendry is not >:)

Arya threw down her pencil and lay her head on her arms, closing her eyes. This was the fifth time she'd tried to get through the physics problem and it was _still_ not working out correctly. Her long, dark hair fell over her face like a curtain, blocking the library lights. _Maybe I can just take a quick nap...a few minutes wouldn't hurt..._

"That's an interesting way of doing physics."

 _Damn._ She knew that voice. Not having a comeback this time, Arya slowly raised her head, meeting the very blue eyes of Gendry Waters. His mouth was curved up slightly, but upon taking in her cloudy expression, his face softened slightly. "What's wrong?"

Arya gestured helplessly at the papers before her. "I'm hopeless. Utterly hopeless." 

To her surprise (and delight), he took a seat at the table next to her, looking at through her work. Arya twisted her fingers together, embarrassed at just how useless she was when it came to this subject. Instead, she studied Gendry out of the corner of her eye.

He was tall and broadly built - easy to spot walking around campus. Arya knew other girls had tried to latch on to him already; she didn't know if it had worked, nor did she want to know (so she kept telling herself). She was here to make the grades, not look for boys. Sansa tried to set her up enough as it was. But she _had_ noticed him. He was quiet, almost always working on something, as if he didn't expect to be noticed by anyone. And then she'd walked into class on the first day and seen him, sitting in the back corner. Later, the professor would introduce him as the class TA. 

At first, he had been surrounded by a gaggle of her classmates, asking for help and extra practice. He looked so uncomfortable that Arya had almost been tempted to go save him from the big group, before she shook herself out of it and left. But lately, she'd been getting to class almost an hour early, just looking for a place to study or have her coffee in peace. Gendry, she found out, had a similar idea. She'd been so surprised to see him the first day that she'd started stammering, before getting a grip and taking a seat nearby. She heard him stifle a chuckle, and turned to admonish him when she realized she quite liked his smile. And his eyes. So she'd smiled slightly and turned back to her coffee. 

Now, weeks into the semester, they'd chatted more than once, but usually about classes or the next exam. And here he was, sitting next to her as if they were friends. She was struck by how much she hoped it was true. Arya wondered if he thought they were friends. 

Just then, Gendry put down her papers and turned to her. She tried to look focused, but knew she'd been caught when he grinned (damn, but she liked his smile). "I think you need a break." 

"What I need is for someone else to take this exam for me," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

Gendry paused for a moment, as if he was having an internal debate. Then, shyly: "I could tutor you...if you'd like." 

Arya tilted her head, watching him deliberately pick at his jeans. _He's nervous._ "That...are you sure you wouldn't mind?" 

Now he looked at her. "Not at all. Keeps me on my toes." 

Arya nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears. Now _she_ was nervous. "Then, yeah, that would be really helpful. Thanks." 

He nodded again. Lots of nodding. It was weird. They set up a time to meet, and Arya tried to stop her stomach from flipping.

In the weeks that followed, they met every few days for help. The first meeting was filled with more nervous nodding and careful tip-toeing until Arya let loose a curse worthy of a sailor. She hadn't known Gendry could laugh so loudly, and felt absurdly proud for discovering it. She grew more at ease around him, and their study breaks often went overtime. She would tell stories about her sisters and brothers and the trouble they got into as kids, before everyone grew up and got serious. Gendry listened attentively, watching her with those expressive blue eyes. She cajoled him into sharing, too. He spoke of his adoptive parents. His dad owned a mechanics shop, where he worked part-time. She slowly began to understand his mechanics metaphors. Her favorite was when he compared learning, especially physics, to using a toolbox - the teachers gave you the tools, and you had to understand how to use them in the right ways. 

Of course, they didn't always get along. Especially when it came to physics. He pushed her, and she pushed right back. But unlike most other people, he wouldn't budge. He was as stubborn as her in that respect. Some days that frustrated her, and she yelled and ignored him. Other days the challenge was welcome, and in the moments things clicked, she felt on top of the world. And, she had to admit, it was in large part his doing. 

One day, in the middle of class, it hit her. _I'm falling for him._

She didn't know what to do with that thought, so she let it drift around her mind, until a few days later, someone else brought it up. Arya was gathering her books at the end of physics when she heard one of the girls click-clack by in her high heels, towards the back of the room. Almost subconsciously, Arya slowed down all her movements, taking her time pulling on her coat and zipping up her bag.

"Hiya Gendry."

"Oh, hello there. Um, can I help you with something?"

"My question isn't exactly physics-related," the girl giggled. Arya rolled her eyes but stayed put. "Well, I was wondering if you'd like to get dinner with me some night?" 

Arya fiddled with her bag, caught between getting the hell out of there and knowing his answer.

Gendry coughed slightly, then quietly answered, "I'm actually seeing someone at the moment, so, um, thanks for offering, but..." Arya didn't wait to hear the rest of his response. She grabbed her bag and was out the door, not stopping until she was outside in the cold winter air. She felt like a fool. _This is what comes of acting like a silly girl, Arya Stark._ She shoved her hands in her pockets and headed for some coffee and a quiet corner.

She found an empty classroom in another building and set down her books and coffee cup. She decided to work on foreign language, her favorite subject, trying to lose herself in the tenses and pronunciations. A few hours and an empty coffee cup later, she was writing on the white board when she heard a knock on the door. A familiar shock of black hair was the first thing she saw as she turned around, causing her stomach to flip (annoyingly). 

Gendry's gaze turned from concern to relief when he saw her. "Finally. I've been looking for you all over." 

"Why?" It came out harsher than she intended, but she was in no mood to apologize.

"I thought you might want to work on some more physics problems, since the exam's coming up." 

"Oh...sorry. I was trying to stay hidden and get some work done." 

"Well, mission accomplished then." He grinned at her, but it faded when she didn't reply. "Hey, what's the matter?"

Arya turned back to the board. "Nothing." 

"Arya." She didn't reply. "Arya, come on. It's me." 

She fiddled with the markers. "I'm fine, really. You should go hang out with your girlfriend or something, I'm sure she'd like to see you." _Damn, why'd you have to go and bring that up, Stark?_

Gendry was silent for a minute, and she heard the door close. But then his bag dropped onto a chair and he was walking over to her. _Oh, that's not good. Not good at all._

"Is that what this is about?" Arya expected him to be angry, but there was something else in his voice instead. More like...amusement? No, it couldn't be. She stayed silent, letting her hair cover her face, not willing to look at him. 

"Arya." His voice was unexpectedly soft. "Arya, look at me. Please."

She sighed and shifted to face him, trailing her eyes up slowly until grey met blue. "Arya, I don't have a girlfriend." 

She swore she'd misheard him. It wasn't possible. It must have showed on her face, because Gendry put his hands on her shoulders and repeated, almost whispering, "I don't have a girlfriend." 

"But...but you told that girl-" 

Gendry rubbed the back of his neck and grinned sheepishly. "I know. I'm an idiot. It was the first thing that came to mind, because I am _interested_ in seeing someone...in seeing _you_...it just wasn't official. But she didn't need to know that." 

Arya felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and looked down to hide it, but Gendry saw it (as always).

"Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Up until now, I didn't think I had a chance." 

Arya's smile grew until her cheeks hurt. "Stupid," she whispered, grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer. His large hands came up to cup her cheeks, and her eyes closed as his thumb stroked lightly over her bottom lip. He kissed her nose lightly, then slowly the corners of her lips. She made a noise and yanked on his shirt, making him chuckle. 

"So impatient," he whispered against her lips. But for once, he wasn't patient either.


	20. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ADwD, Littlefinger's plan to have Sansa reveal herself as the heir to Winterfell seems to be going well...until it doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I had floating in my mind for a while about what would happen if Littlefinger's plan to have Sansa reveal herself as the heir to Winterfell happened. Just...not at her wedding to Harry the Heir and coinciding with a well-timed takeover/take-back of Winterfell ;)

Sansa surveyed the room full of nobles and leaders gathered from parts of the realm, all of whom had been expecting dark-haired, shy "Alayne." Instead, they were met with the fiery red hair and unmistakable Tully blue eyes of Sansa Stark. 

Petyr Baelish stepped out from the crowd and came to join Sansa at the front, smug smile in place. How she wanted to slap that off him. She gazed back out at the crowd while Petyr began giving his well-rehearsed, slimy-as-ever speech to the crowd about how he "saved" Sansa from a nightmarish life at King's Landing. Her eyes lingered at the back of the room, where the guards were standing by the door. Something was off. Sansa searched her memory, trying to figure out what had changed in the moments since her gaze had shifted to Petyr.

Then she realized: there had been three guards, not two. But where had the third gone? And so quickly, too...

She was about to brush it off when she heard noises coming from elsewhere in the castle, getting closer to the main chamber. They were the clanging noises of armor, of sword on shield, and bodies clashing: sounds of battle. Petyr pause from his speech as well, noticing something was amiss.

The chamber doors to Sansa's left burst open, letting in a group of darkly clad fighters interspersed with guards. But the some of the guards weren't fighting the new men, she saw. No, they were fighting _together_ , against the men she now realized were Petyr's guards, brought with him from The Vale. 

Now the main doors flew open as well, letting in even more people. Sansa's heart jumped, seeing a familiar mop of curly black hair at the front of the group. The nobles in the room panicked, trying to escape in the same way the newcomers had entered. Some succeeded, but others weren't so lucky to avoid the fighting.

Sansa moved to follow, thinking to take advantage of the chaos, but felt an arm around her waist tug her back. As always, Petyr was a step ahead of her.

"Where do you think you're off to?" he whispered into her ear. She struggled against him, trying to find Jon again in the crowd. There! He was taking on several guards, with the help of another young man wielding a hammer. Sansa struggled harder against Petyr, afraid she would never have a better chance of escape. Suddenly she felt the cool edge of a blade firmly against her throat, and her movements stilled.

Jon was the first to notice and drop his weapon, to Sansa's dismay. Petyr chuckled as soldiers in the room followed suit. But the man fighting next to Jon didn't. He kept a grip on the hammer, stepping forward to get Petyr's attention. Sansa couldn't believe her eyes - he looked so much like King Robert, but there was a quiet steeliness to him she had never seen in the old king. She noticed Petyr's intake of breath, too, as he saw the young man.

What was he doing? He made no move to fight, but didn't drop the hammer. He just waited a moment, letting Petyr come to the same realization as she had.

"Well well well," Petyr drawled. "What do we have here?"

"You'll never know," the young man replied, just as Sansa felt Petyr's grip on her loosen, and the blade clanked to the floor. She turned and gasped, seeing Petyr on the floor with an arrow protruding from his neck. Sansa looked up for the source, and saw a girl step out of the shadows. No - she wasn't a girl anymore. Her hair was longer, and she was taller, but there was no mistaking the aim. Lithe and cold, Arya walked forward, another arrow notched in her bow, her dark hair escaping its long braid. Her grey eyes only saw Petyr. 

When she approached him, she knelt and leaned over as the last dregs of life left him.

"Look at me," her voice was sharp and full of command. "I want you to see my eyes when you die. _His_ eyes. Know that you will never kill the Starks."

Sansa watched as Arya's face, full of hatred, stared at Petyr long after he was gone. His soldiers had surrendered the moment the arrow went through his neck.

She didn't realize she was on her knees until the young man from earlier came up behind Arya, slowly placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Arya." His voice was soft, and Sansa looked at him, surprised. _Oh._ His features had softened, blue eyes full of not sympathy, but pride and caring. "Arya. It's done." 

Arya sighed and closed her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. His grip tightened, and she turned to look at him briefly, her hand resting over his for a moment. Then his eyes flicked towards Sansa, and Arya turned, properly seeing her sister for the first time. Sansa stared, unable and scared to believe what was happening. Arya smiled, laying down her bow and arrow, and crawled towards Sansa until suddenly they were hugging tightly, and Sansa couldn't tell who was shaking harder.

Steps behind them caused her to loosen her hold and turn slightly, and then Jon was in front of her, smiling softly. Sansa pulled Arya up, and didn't miss how the other young man came to stand close behind her, as if to support. 

They heard howling in the halls, and Arya grinned. Sansa turned as a big grey wolf burst through the door, bounding up around Arya and her man. He smiled briefly, his hand buried deep in the wolf's fur.

"Nymeria," Sansa breathed.

Arya grinned. "Not just Nymeria." 

Sansa turned again and there they were, the wild wolf and his boy. _Rickon_.

"Winterfell is ours," he said, and Sansa felt so light she could take off and fly.

She turned back to Jon and Arya, then pointedly looked from Arya to the man behind her. Arya looked at her, confused for a moment, before her gaze cleared and she realized what was wrong.

"Sansa, this is my...er..." she was twisting her fingers together tightly, and Sansa swore she saw her cheeks flush before she gave up trying to find a label for him. "He's Gendry. Gendry, my older sister Sansa." Gendry bowed to Sansa, but not before she saw him shoot Arya a cheeky grin. Arya stuck her tongue out in response and Sansa couldn't hold back her smile at the familiar gesture, even if Arya's cheeks were _definitely_ red.

"Your Grace," Gendry addressed her. "It's good to finally meet you."

Sansa smiled at him warmly. "Likewise. And it's Sansa." 

"Don't bother," Arya huffed. "He never learns." 

This time Gendry didn't try to hide his grin, and Jon snorted behind Arya. Nymeria and Shaggydog howled, and as Sansa looked at her family, new and old, her laughter mixed in with the howls, resounding deep in the stone walls of Winterfell.


	21. Waiting

Gendry continued to hammer away at the breastplate in front of him, unaware of Arya standing in the doorway of the forge.

She studied him, her bull-headed old friend. He'd grown broader and stronger since she'd last seen him years ago. She'd changed, too. She'd left the Faceless Men, realizing she had to face her past properly, and own her identity as a Stark of the North. She found Sansa ruling over a much different Winterfell, and now she was standing at the forge, annoyed and nervous and hopeful at this boy from her past who made her remember everything and yet helped her forget all at once.

She realized he'd stopped hammering, and looked up to find his blue eyes on her, studying her similarly. He didn't speak, just let his eyes drift over her, as if he was memorizing her.

Arya felt warm and unnerved by his gaze, so she stepped inside the forge and looked around, anywhere but at him. Running a hand over the set of newly made daggers, she finally broke the silence.

"When Sansa told me you were here, I couldn't believe it." 

"And why's that?" His voice brimmed with hurt and a little anger.

"What reason do you have for being here?" Arya tried to keep her voice calm, but Gendry stepped closer.

"What do you think my reason is, _m'lady_?" 

Arya snapped. "I don't bloody know or care! You left me." 

Suddenly she was face to face with Gendry, his blue eyes blazing. "No, m'lady. _You_ left _me_."

Arya watched as his body tensed and he reached out as if to shake her, then rubbed his neck instead, his shoulders slumping.

"So I waited. You told me you wanted to find your sister. I knew if I found her, one day, you'd be back." He was looking at her again, but this time his gaze was knowing, as if he knew something she didn't. Arya wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

She swallowed, and was searching for a reply when she looked behind Gendry and her heart stopped.

Nymeria was watching them quietly, until she locked eyes with Arya and came forward. Arya put out her hand slowly, and Nymeria butted her head against it, nuzzling and licking and welcoming. Arya sank to the floor and put her arms around Nymeria, burying her face in her fur, and let the tears come.

When she finally broke away, Gendry was still there.

She stood up, and he reached out one hand, softly wiping tears off her cheeks. 

"How?" she croaked. "How did she...did you...?"

Gendry smiled sadly. "I told you. We've been waiting for you." 

Arya reached out, this time to take his hand in hers.

He looked at her warily. "I'm not letting you go this time."

She nodded, and suddenly his arms were tight around her and her face was buried in his chest. His face was nestled in her shoulder, his arms stroking her back lightly. The thought crossed her mind that she wouldn't be letting him go anytime soon, either.


	22. Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of the season 3 premiere! It's finally hereeeeee! :D

Arya stared at the sword in front of her. Its steel glinted in the firelight of the forge and its blade was wider than Needle's before it tapered to a point, perfect to receive blows from her students. The hilt was a growling wolf, the sword coming out of its open mouth. It was beautiful.

She looked at Gendry, her throat tight. "This...you...it's..."

"It's yours," he replied softly. "If you'll have it." 

"If I'll..." Arya couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. "Stupid." She threw her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she could as he returned her hug, pulling her off her feet for a moment. 

"I love it," she whispered into his neck. "And I love you." 

She felt him smile into her shoulder before letting go. As she turned back to the sword, he remarked, "Every sword should have a name." 

"Mmm." Arya traced the wolf carving and along the blade. "What were you calling it?" When Gendry looked at her confused, she revised. "When you were working on it, what did you call it?"

Understanding dawned, then a look that was both sheepish and cheeky crossed his face. "M'lady's sword." 

Arya's eyes narrowed as he grinned at her, but before she could move to hit him for it, another thought crossed her mind. 

"You know, that's not a bad idea." She turned back to the sword. "I think I'll call her Lady." 

She smiled at Gendry. "After Sansa's direwolf. Besides, I think it's time the term _lady_ got re-invented a little." 

Gendry chuckled and placed a kiss on her head. "No one better for the job."


	23. Resemblance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Gendry talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have zero context for this conversation or how Brienne gets to Winterfell...but say she did. This was just floating in my head. It's the polar opposite of angry Gendry in the books...

Gendry placed the finished breastplate on the side, careful not to let anything scratch it. 

"It's a fine piece of work." 

Gendry turned, startled, to see Brienne standing in his doorway. He bowed his head. "Lady Brienne." 

She smiled, as if in on a joke only she understood. "I'm no lady." 

Gendry's mouth twitched at that, and he amended, "Very well, Lady Knight Brienne, then." 

Brienne shook her head, but kept looking at him. Gendry waited, then realizing she wasn't going to speak, gestured to the breastplate. "It's yours. I hope it serves you well." When she didn't respond, he looked up again, only to see her gaze locked on him, unseeing.

An incredible sadness filled her eyes, and Gendry realized she wasn't entirely in the present. He waited, not wanting to break into her memories. Then it was over as suddenly as it began, and her face cleared, pulling the sadness back into its box.

"I'm sorry. That...it happens from time to time, I can't quite help it." 

Gendry paused, wanting to ask but not wanting to offend her. She saw it on his face and waited until he spoke. "Do I look very much like him?" 

She didn't need to ask who. "Yes. But you're your own man, of that I'm sure." 

"How's that?"

"Milady Arya wouldn't be with you if you weren't." 

"That's true enough, I suppose," he smiled softly. Then: "Do you think I should have taken his name?"

"His name got him killed. You don't need any of that." 

Gendry nodded again. "Does it...does it pain you? To see me everyday?" 

Brienne looked at him sadly. "It used to. But it's much less now." Her face brightened. "I think I've gotten as much closure as I'll get, seeing Sansa as queen and Lady Catelyn laid to rest. The rest is just memories now, and that's alright." 

Gendry swallowed, nodded. "I _am_ sorry."

This time she smiled, a true smile. "Thank you."


	24. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What should have happened last night in 3x02.

Arya stared down the men, willing them to listen to her and walk away. Of course, they didn't. They laughed at her instead. 

_They always laugh. One day that'll change,_ she thought grimly. 

The older one, their leader, grinned at her. "And what's a lonely little girl going to do with that sword?"

"She's not alone." Arya heard footsteps behind her and almost turned to admonish Gendry, but when he came to stand beside her, strong and silent, she kept her mouth shut. Even if his hand was shaking slightly.

She saw the older man's eyes take in Gendry slowly, and for a second she thought maybe their luck had changed. But then he smiled again, and the younger man readied his bow, and she knew they were done in. For now.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, as she and Gendry were walking with Hot Pie and the rest of Thoros' men, she couldn't help but scold him slightly.

"You shouldn't have come out."

He smirked. "What, and leave you alone?"

"I was fine," Arya gritted out. 

"Yeah, I could see that." When her expression didn't change, he sighed. "He knew we were there. It was just a matter of who would give in first."

"So why did you give in, then? Why come out instead of waiting?"

"Same reason you gave Chiswick's name first to Jaqen." His reply came out so easily, so steadily, her eyes flew to his. There was no judgment there, just understanding. "We're in this together, right? Seemed only fair." 

Arya was silent for a few minutes before replying.

"He was going to hurt you." Her voice came out smaller than it would have liked. "He hurt all those other people, and he was going to watch you die the same way."

"But he didn't." Gendry lowered his voice. "Arya, I'm right here."

Arya nodded, and they continued in silence, his voice resounding in her head. 

_Together._

Arya quite liked the sound of that.


	25. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. Jon & Gendry are friends at uni, Arya started there recently too. Gendry and Jon get into a fight with Joffrey and his friends, and Arya helps Gendry afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another daydream from physics class :P hope you enjoy

Jon and Gendry were late. They were never late, until today. In fact, they usually beat her to their usual meeting spot after classes.

Arya stood by the fountain, frustrated, wondering why Jon wasn't picking up his phone, when she heard excited chattering of students that passed her. 

"It's Joff and his gang, taking on these two large blokes!" 

_Fuck._

Arya grabbed one girl's arm as she passed by. "What did you just say?"

She looked at her friends and giggled. "Joffrey Baratheon and his friends, they're at the quad with that Snow boy and his friend. I think-"

Arya didn't wait for her to finish. She took off towards the quad, cursing the heavy bag over her shoulder. By the time she got there, she could see a crowd forming. 

_Great, just what he wants. A bloody audience._

As she shoved through the crowd, she caught glimpses of the two dark-haired boys, their backs to her. Facing them was the blonde, smug little prick who Arya knew wouldn't even chip a nail if a fight broke out. The hulking one next to him, his _dog_ , would take care of things, along with the other two goons Arya didn't care to know the names of.

Every part of Jon and Gendry looked tense, but they hadn't dropped their bags. They don't want to fight, Arya thought. They don't need this on their records. She was almost to the front, when she heard saw Joffrey smile and whisper something nobody but Gendry and Jon could hear. Before she knew it, Jon was yelling and Gendry's fist was slamming into Joffrey's face. There was a huge (and satisfying, Arya had to admit) _crack_ , and Joffrey was on the ground, blood pouring from his broken nose. 

His goons moved in on Gendry and Jon fast, and the fistfight begun. Arya looked at the crowd, the _mob_ , around her, egging on the fight. It was sick. Arya's stomach dropped as Jon and Gendry each received blows, but she grimly noted they gave as good as they got. When Gendry took a nasty punch to the head and hit the gruond, she heard a scream and was startled to realize it was her own voice. 

Suddenly, there was more yelling and professors and campus security came running their way. And as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

"My father will hear about this!" Joffrey wailed as he was helped up. "Mark my words, you won't get away with this!"

Gendry and Jon were guided away by professors - one of which, Arya gladly noted, was Tyrion Lannister. Gendry turned back once, his blue eyes finding hers. She saw the bruise forming by his left eye before he gave her a small smile and turned back to walk with Jon. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arya sat by the fountain for an hour or so, hoping that the boys would find her on their way back, but had no luck. Eventually, she headed back to the house she shared with Jon and Sansa (who was studying abroad).

Dropping her bag by the door, she walked into the living room only to stop suddenly at the sight of Gendry sitting in an armchair. He looked up at her entrance and smiled sheepishly, holding a bag of frozen peas to his left eye.

"Hey." When she didn't reply, he gestured to the peas. "Hope you don't mind. There was no ice pack." 

Arya tried to smile wryly. "You're lucky there were peas." 

Gendry chuckled slightly, then winced at the movement and moved the frozen bag to his jaw. 

"What are they going to do to you and Jon?" Arya was afraid of the answer, but she had to know.

Gendry looked down, weary, then back at her. "Dunno yet. Jon's back there talking with them now, and Professor Lannister as well. Sent me back here to ice myself." He put the bag down and sighed. "Mum's gonna freak out." 

"Tell her you broke that little shit's nose." Arya grinned. "Certainly made me proud." 

Gendry smiled slightly, but the worry didn't leave his eyes. Arya came and sat in front of him, surprising both of them by picking up the frozen peas and laying them against his eye and jaw. She didn't know what to do with her other hand, so she left it resting on the other side of his face, tilting his head now and then to ice his swollen jaw properly.

He relaxed into her after a moment, letting her help him.

"So he said something about your mum, then?"

He stared at her, surprise evident on his face. "How did you...?"

Arya shrugged. "Not too hard to figure out. The Lannisters are a fucked up lot, and everyone knows Joffrey's one of them, as much as he pretends not to be. So he goes around trying to screw up everyone else's families, too." 

"That's true enough." 

His hand came up to adjust the frozen bag, and she noticed his bloody knuckles. "Stupid, how did you not clean these yet?! Haven't you heard of infection?" Arya stood up abruptly and grabbed a washcloth from the kitchen, soaking it in the sink and then returning to sit in front of Gendry.

She cleaned his knuckles slowly and carefully, while he looked on without a word. When she was done, he grasped both her hands in his. Arya finally looked up at him, only to see an incredible warmth in his blue eyes as they looked back at her. 

"Thank you," he said softly. "You didn't have to do that." 

"No, I didn't. But I wanted to," she admitted, and his smile finally reached his eyes. She bit her lip, then grinned. "Someone's got to look after you, _clearly_." 

He hung his head sheepishly at that, but his grip on her hands tightened slightly. She squeezed back.


	26. Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow-up to previous chapter - Arya, Gendry, Jon at uni. Gendry and Jon got into a fight with Joffrey and Arya decides to teach Joffrey a lesson of her own.

Gendry was on his way to the Rush building for class when he heard the barking. Soon after, there were high-pitched yells, followed by scattered laughter. Cautiously, he made his way to the quad, where people had gathered to watch the spectacle that was unfolding, although they were trying not to be too obvious about it.

He hesitated at the edge of the main quad, not wanting to draw too much attention. His knuckles were still bandaged and sore from the fight a few days ago - not that he regretted a second of it. Still, he had escaped with little more than a slap on the wrist, thanks hugely to Jon, and Ned Stark. He didn't want to repay their aid with stupidity. 

Standing in the shade of a building, he saw Joffrey and his group backing away slowly from a very large dog. The young boy had his hands out in a placating gesture.

Gendry squinted, trying to make out the creature's build. He'd only seen a dog like this once before, and that was Jon's dog Ghost. But where Ghost was almost pure white, this one was large and grey. It could have been a wolf, for all Gendry knew. Its hackles were raised as it circled Joffrey and his minions, barking every now and then and making all of them jump. Well, all of them but the large one. He was probably half-beast himself, Gendry suspected.

Then he noticed her. Standing even further in the shade of the building and hidden almost entirely by a tree, was Arya. The wind was whipping her long hair around her face, and her lips were curled in a smirk as she watched the scene. Gendry watched her for a moment, remembering how she'd stayed with him after the fight, and pretty much every day after. He seemed to keep finding reasons to hang out at their place even when Jon wasn't there, and she hadn't complained.

It was then that he saw her hands move, and the dog barked again, eliciting a girlish wail from Joffrey. Gendry was startled. He looked back at the dog, then at Arya. _It can't be._

He walked over to her, careful to stay in the shade. Arya turned to look at him as he neared her, her grey eyes sparkling with mischief. 

"Hello there." She turned back to survey the quad.

Gendry stood by her silently for a moment, then couldn't help but ask. "Arya, is that Nymeria?"

Arya looked at him sidelong, her mouth twitching. "Now what would Nymeria be doing all the way up here? You know dogs aren't allowed on campus."

Nymeria was still circling the boys, but Gendry could tell that it was all play. For now.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he said quietly.

"Yes, I do. I don't care what his last name is, he shouldn't be free to treat people like shit." 

Nymeria growled in agreement, and Gendry had to smile. It was definitely her.

"Thank you," he told her softly. 

She didn't acknowledge him at first, but then he felt her pinky finger loop around his and give a small squeeze. 

Nymeria gave Joffrey one last warning growl, making him trip in fright. She tore his trouser leg and bared her teeth in what Gendry could only describe as a feral grin (scarily similar to Arya's) before bounding off.


	27. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya's parents pay her a surprise visit at uni and get a surprise of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing with my modern AU streak from the last two chapters. I'm just really in the mood for it right now, probably because I've been reading so many other great modern AU's. I totally recommend checking out Watching You Watching Me and the sequel Watch Us Go, by crossingwinter. Awesome stuff.
> 
> This is my first try at Ned's POV, hope it works! Also Catelyn might be nicer than expected so maybe OOC a little there.

Ned felt bad for dropping on on Arya - and Jon, for that matter - without any notice, but Catelyn had insisted on it that way. Less chance to hide anything, she said. After he'd had to intervene for Jon and his friend Gendry, Ned just wanted to put the whole thing behind them. Catelyn, though, wanted to see Arya (and Jon, he suspected) in person to make sure things were alright.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't concerned either, having gotten a late-night phone call from Arya the day after the incident, ever-so-quietly thanking him for helping Jon and Gendry. He'd never heard her voice sound so small before, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. So he'd taken off work as soon as he could - which was still weeks after the whole thing had occurred - and they'd set off.

And Jon, the poor boy, nearly had a heart attack after picking up his phone in the midst of what Ned thought might have been a date, only to hear his parents were awaiting him at the station. Ned had thought Jon would warn Arya ahead of time, but as he walked into their house he saw that was certainly not the case.

His youngest daughter was fast asleep on the couch, curled under a large, black hoodie he didn't recognize, her hair falling loosely around her face ... which happened to be in the lap of a very panicked-looking young man who looked astonishingly like young Robert. He set down his textbook, his bright blue eyes flipping from Ned, to Catelyn, and finally narrowing at Jon before worriedly zooming over to Ned again. 

He almost laughed at the young boy's obvious discomfort, until he saw his eyes settle on Arya and soften noticeably, as he pulled the hoodie closer around her, smoothing her hair slightly, almost subconsciously. He looked up again apologetically, and Ned knew he wouldn't be standing up to greet them.

So he walked over to him, taking care to keep quiet, and clasped hands with the young man as his daughter slept on.

"Mr. Stark," the boy spoke as low as possible. "I apologize, but..." he gestured to Arya's sleeping form. "She's had a rough week with exams and such, and she's only now got to rest-" he stopped as Ned held up a hand. 

"It's alright. I'm just glad to know she's sleeping at all." 

The boy grinned briefly, and Ned realized he knew his daughter quite well. Then he spoke again.

"I want you to know...I very much appreciate what you did for me a few weeks ago. I did not...I do not usually find myself in those situations. But I am incredibly grateful, as is my mum." 

Ned nodded, all the while berating himself for not recognizing Gendry sooner. Of course this was Gendry, the very same that Jon had told him about in his early days at uni. The boy who understood Jon's pain of not knowing a parent all too well. Except Ned knew who Gendry's father was. One look had been all he needed. Yet, he thought, the boy seemed much better off not knowing.

He felt Catelyn at his shoulder, and Gendry dipped his head awkwardly. "Mrs. Stark, it's good to meet you." 

Catelyn smiled. "You too." Her gaze drifted to Arya. "How is she?"

Gendry followed her gaze, unable to stop brushing his hand over Arya's shoulder slightly before replying. "She's been a bit worn out from exams this week, but otherwise keeping well. I try to make sure she eats," he grinned.

"Gendry cooks quite well," Jon piped up from near the doorway.

"Aye," Gendry agreed, blue eyes gleaming, and Ned knew Jon was in trouble. "But not nearly as well as Ygritte. She bests anyone in that area." 

"Ygritte?" Catelyn asked innocently, turning to Jon. As Jon stammered out a response, Ned caught Gendry's grin as he turned back to Arya. 

Suddenly Jon's phone went off quite loudly, and Arya shifted, causing Gendry to curse under his breath, but Ned heard it. He'd been thinking quite the same thing. He felt Catelyn's hand on his arm, pulling him back as Arya began to wake up.

She turned so she was on her back, staring straight up at Gendry, and a sweet, sleepy smile crossed her face. Catelyn looked at Ned knowingly.

"Hello," Arya said softly, her voice thick with sleep. 

"Hey." Gendry bent over to whisper to her quietly, flicking his eyes in her parents' direction. Ned saw her eyes widen, and in the next second she was sitting up and facing them - still holding Gendry's hoodie, he noted. Then her eyes brightened and she launched herself across the room at Ned, hitting him with the force of a bowling ball. He chuckled and hugged her back, then let her go to Catelyn.

Gendry unfolded himself from the couch, and Ned realized they were nearly eye to eye. He waited, hands shoved in his pockets, as Arya greeted her mother and then stepped back. 

"We'd like to take you all out for dinner, if that's alright," Ned looked at Arya apologetically. "To make up for dropping in like this." 

Arya waved her hand, but he didn't miss her quick glance at Gendry, who was quietly packing up his books. Ned turned to him. "You're invited too, Gendry. If you'd like to come, that is." 

Gendry looked up in surprise, then briefly to Arya before answering. "Thank you, sir. That would be nice." 

Ned nodded at him, then turned to Jon. "If you'd like to invite your young lady? I'm assuming that's who called." Jon could only nod, red-faced, and Arya mouthed, "thank you" when the others had their backs turned. He smiled at his youngest, then started to usher Catelyn and Jon out. 

He turned once to see Arya pull on Gendry's hoodie and laugh at something he said to her. Then his voice lowered even more, and her laugh turned into a yelp of indignation and she punched his arm, but now he was laughing and she couldn't seem to stop smiling either.

Ned chuckled to himself as he walked out the door. He needn't have worried. Arya was in good hands.


	28. Tipsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gets tipsy and Gendry only encourages it when he finds out it loosens her tongue.

Arya was tipsy. 

Looking back, he should have known better than to challenge her, but he hadn't been able to resist. She was sitting there all pretty with her tight jeans and fiery grey eyes, insisting she most definitely _could_ match him drink for drink, and all he'd wanted to do was grab her face and kiss her silly, so he went ahead and ordered more drinks instead. 

At first, she'd been fine, even if she did seem to keep finding new reasons to touch his arm, his shoulder, his leg now and then. Ygritte had knowingly smirked from across the table, all the while successfully distracting Jon.

Gendry was no lightweight, but he'd also been drinking longer than Arya, and knew how to manage himself, for the most part. Arya, on the other hand, had no intention of taking a break. They were having fun, though. The drinks took the edge off, and Gendry could pretend she wasn't his best friend's younger sister and (he hoped) she could stop putting up her wall. 

Now they were sitting on the docks, legs hanging off the edge of the pier. Arya was swaying side to side slightly, bumping Gendry's shoulder now and then.

A gaggle of young girls passed them, a couple looking at Gendry and whispering to each other and laughing as they continued on. Gendry shook his head, ears slightly red, hoping Arya hadn't noticed. But of course, she had.

"They like you," she whispered it like a secret.

"They don't even know me." 

"Doesn't matter. You're very handsome."

Gendry felt a smile forming on his face. "Is that what they think or what you think?"

"It's what everyone thinks. I just happen to agree." Gendry smirked, but then she continued matter-of-factly, "But I also know you're smart and kind and loyal, and that matters more." 

He stared at her, mouth slightly agape. "You really think all those things about me?"

"Of course I think about you." Gendry opened his mouth to correct her, then decided to keep going. He was going to hell anyways.

"What else do you think about?"

"My dad and his job, and how much I wish Sansa and Willas would just snog already and get it over with, and how nice you are to Nymeria."

"She scares me. Not unlike you, sometimes."

Arya smiled freely, then her face turned pensive again. "You are handsome, though." 

She sounded so unsettled by the thought, Gendry had to laugh. 

"How come you've never said all those things before?" he asked quietly.

"I guess...I guess I thought it would go away, and when it didn't, I wasn't sure what to do," she admitted quietly, staring at her feet. "Plus, I didn't know how you would respond."

Gendry wasn't sure how tipsy she was anymore, but he decided to take a chance anyways. He curled a finger under her chin, making her look at him.

"I think you're beautiful." When she scoffed and tried to turn away, he cupped her cheek completely. "You are. You might not see it, but I do. Every day. You're fierce and warm and so _alive_. And you won't remember this in the morning, but I'll tell you again and again, every day." 

She stared at him wide-eyed, and before he could blink, her lips were on his. He was frozen for a moment, and then his body was responding as fast as it could. Their lips came together briefly, then pulled apart, then back together, until he tilted his head slightly and slanted his lips over hers, slowly, not wanting to break away. She made a small noise and gripped his shirt collar, and he smiled into the kiss. She tasted like the mint schnapps they'd been drinking, and it made his head swim. 

Arya broke away after a few minutes, leaning her head on his shoulder, face turned into the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arm around her contentedly, pressing his lips into her hair. 

"You were wrong about one thing," she said eventually, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"Oh?"

"I won't ever forget what you said."

"Good. I'll still tell you every day anyways."

He felt lips curve into a smile against his neck, and her arms reached around his waist to pull him closer.


	29. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the war, Hot Pie makes it to Winterfell. Post ADwD, Queen Sansa, A/G established.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last night's goodbye to Hot Pie did me in, even though I knew it was coming. Joe and Maisie just wanted to hug Ben. and the last shot of Hot Pie just standing in the doorway....AGH. nope. can't just leave it there.

Arya was practicing with her students in the training yard, relishing the clang of sword on sword, when she heard Gendry yelling her name. She held her hands up for a break, and hid a grin as the girl and boy sighed in relief.

Gendry burst into the yard, moving faster than she ever knew he could, but it was his face that captivated her. His blue eyes were shining, and he was grinning from ear to ear. His arms were still covered in soot from the smithy, and she could tell he'd barely stopped to remove his apron before leaving the forge. 

"You are never going to guess who I just found." He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of her. His glee was infectious, and she found herself smiling with him, all the while raising one eyebrow.

He turned, and then his face fell, realizing nobody was with him. "Seven hells, where'd he-?" He spotted a shadow by the corner of the practice yard about the same time Arya did. "Oh come _on _, then!" he called, then sighed, seeing no movement. His long legs carried him over fast, and soon he was reaching to pull the shorter fellow forward by his shirt collar.__

__Arya's eyes widened at the sight of Gendry leading Hot Pie into the practice yard. Everything around her fell away, and for a moment she was traveling with her two friends again, Gendry yanking Hot Pie along. She felt a lump in her throat and swallowed, watching Gendry march him straight up to her, his grin back in place._ _

__Hot Pie looked like he'd seen a ghost, which was how Arya suspected she looked as well. He was a little taller, but just as wide, and there was flour on his trousers, making her smile._ _

__When they got close enough, she did what she'd been unable to do when they'd last parted - she hugged him tightly._ _

__She felt Hot Pie awkwardly pat her back as Gendry said,"Told you she'd remember you."_ _

__Arya pulled back abruptly. "Remember! Who said I'd forgotten?" She looked accusingly at Hot Pie._ _

__"Well, seeing as you're a lady and all-"_ _

__"Call me a lady again and I'll skewer you." Gendry muffled a laugh as Arya narrowed her eyes at Hot Pie, daring him._ _

__He surprised her by grinning at Gendry. "It's her, all right." Gendry couldn't hold back his chuckle this time, patting the younger boy on the back._ _

__Arya stood watching her two old friends grin back at her, and fought to keep her own lips from twitching. She lost that one._ _


	30. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya is sick and Gendry takes care of her. Modern AU, while they're at uni, just like the past few. established dating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me sick and without a Joe/Gendry = this.

Arya felt like shit. Her nose was stuffy, and her head ached much like the rest of her limbs. 

She pulled on her sweatshirt and grabbed the box of tissues, which she would no doubt go through quickly, before heading into the living room. Her phone blinked with texts from Kel letting her know she'd bring by her work the next day. She'd missed her two afternoon classes, having slept most of the day after mistakenly making things worse by trying to go to her morning class.

Disgruntled, she blew her nose loudly, and began looking around the kitchen for something to make into dinner. Unfortunately, there wasn't much in the way of edible food.

 _I should have known better._ She sighed. 

As she stood in the middle of the kitchen, contemplating going back to bed or ordering something, there was a knock at the door. She waited a moment, unsure of whether she wanted to answer it.

"Arya?" Gendry's voice came through the door. "Arya, it's me." 

She sighed, looking down at her sorry state, then opened the door.

"You look like hell." 

"Thanks," she replied dryly. 

His blue eyes were full of concern, though, and when he stepped forward to brush her hair back softly, she couldn't help but lean against him. Then she noticed the bag in his other hand. 

"What's that?"

"Hmm?" He looked down. "Oh! I brought you food." He held the bag out to her.

Arya took it and set it on the table. "How'd you know?"

"What, that you were sick? I didn't hear from you all day, and then I ran into Kel and she told me you'd missed class," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I was worried." 

Arya smiled softly, then looked up at him. "I meant, how'd you know to bring me food? I'm starving." 

He shrugged and grinned at her. "I figured you have to eat sooner or later, and I _know_ there's nothing in your fridge." 

She stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to the bag, pulling out cups of noodle soup and some grilled cheese sandwiches. "You can refrigerate the rest," he said from behind her. "Looks like you'll need it for a while." 

She nodded, about to thank him, when she was struck by another thought.

"Gendry?" He looked at her, waiting. "Jon didn't ask you to check up on me, did he?"

"What?" Surprise and a little hurt flashed across Gendry's face. "No, of course not. He mentioned you hadn't been feeling well, but I just... I didn't like not seeing you for so long. _I_ just wanted to see how you were." 

His mouth turned up slightly. "Besides, that's what boyfriends do, right? Take care of their girls when they're not feeling well?"

Arya raised her eyebrow. "So you're my boyfriend now?"

Gendry raised an eyebrow right back. "Got that right. You're stuck with me, Stark." He tweaked her nose gently and went to get bowls from the cupboard. 

Arya couldn't keep the smile from her face as she set about taking out the soup. When he sat down next to her on the couch, she warned, "Might not want to get too close or you'll catch...whatever this is." 

He smiled then kissed her on the mouth anyways. She hugged him tightly for a moment, whispering "thank you" into his shirt before letting go and starting to eat. He didn't comment when she fell asleep on his shoulder later, just pulled the blanket close around them both.


	31. Stay

Arya capped her pen, satisfied with the concluding point for her essay outline. She put aside her papers on a stack of tires next to her chair and stretched, yawning. She was at Mott's Garage, surrounded by her schoolbooks while Gendry worked nearby.

She looked over to where his legs were stretched out from under the car. He'd been at Mott's all day, that she was sure of. Whether he was supposed to be there was a different story, but his manager Yoren had taken one look at him and let him in the back and left him to it. When she'd shown up a few hours later, Yoren had pointed wordlessly to the back corner of the garage, and she'd been there ever since.

Gendry's mum had been sick for days with some type of flu. The doctors kept doing their tests but hadn't been able to pinpoint exactly what she had, so she'd remained in the hospital. Arya had been to visit, with Gendry, several times. Then this morning she went to the hospital and waited for almost an hour before realizing he wasn't going to show. So she'd run to class, then straight to Mott's. 

Gendry hadn't spoken a word to her all day, but she didn't mind. He needed to distract himself, to let his mind focus on something other than problems no twenty-year-old should have to worry about. So she did schoolwork, even took a brief nap on her books, while he worked. 

Yoren appeared in the doorway just then, his shadow blocking out the evening light. "You got a moment? Could use an extra body up here, if you're willing." 

It took Arya a moment to realize he was talking to her, but before she could reply, Gendry slid out from under the car. 

"Yoren, leave her be," he said wearily. "You know she doesn't work here." 

"No, it's alright. I could use a break from all the reading." Arya jumped down from her chair and smiled at Gendry before turning to Yoren. "What've you got for me?"

Yoren chuckled and clapped her on the back, nearly sending her sprawling, and led her out the door. After helping him move some stuff around and organizing the day's receipts, she headed back to Gendry, who was putting his stuff aside.

As she got near the car, a familiar smell reached her nose.

"Is that...pizza?" She asked incredulously. "How long was I gone?"

A corner of his mouth turned up. "You didn't eat all day." His voice was apologetic.

She sighed, and wrapped her arms around his waist, touching her forehead to his back. His hands covered hers briefly, and they stood there for a moment, content. Then he let go and turned, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"I'm sorry." 

Arya looked up at him. "For what?"

"You've been here all day and I've barely spoken a word to you 'til now."

"So?"

" _So,_ most people would be pissed if their boyfriend didn't speak a word to them all day."

"I'm not most people."

"So I'm realizing," he said softly, and kissed her.

"I can give you a ride back after, if you want." 

She eyed him carefully. "Are you done here?"

He shook his head. "I'll probably stay a while longer." 

"Thought so. Then I will too." 

She covered his mouth with her hand as he tried to protest. "Not a discussion." She paused. "I would have stayed without the food, you know." 

He pried her hand off his mouth and smiled, a true smile, and kissed her palm lightly. "I know."


	32. Afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The consequences of 3x05's "family" conversation...years later, after Arya returns to Winterfell and finds Gendry smithing there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last night nearly killed me. So this happened.

Arya had been back at Winterfell for nearly a week. She'd left the Faceless Men long ago but stayed in Braavos, not thinking there was anything left to return to. Then rumors started coming, stories from sailors of a new wolf queen and her soldier who'd taken back Winterfell as their own, and suddenly Arya couldn't move fast enough.

Sansa and Jon had been overjoyed to see her, and she them. Rickon surprised her - something not easily done, these days - and she couldn't believe they'd all found their way back.

Then she'd seen him.

He stood at the edge of the crowd, behind the villagers who had come to welcome her. Dark hair, blue-eyed, taller than ever, and staring at her as if into her very soul. So she turned her back on him, as he'd done to her so many years before.

All week, she and Sansa and Jon made plans for rebuilding Winterfell, but she talked very little of her past. The others didn't seem to want to share, either. But they weren't shy to bring up Gendry, a topic she refused to broach. She ignored him completely, not venturing near the forge and finding reasons to busy herself with tasks others could have easily done. 

She couldn't - no, she wouldn't - feel bad for it.

Jon came to find her in her room this day, a week later, and one look at his face told her the game was up. They sat on the bed she'd shared as a child, and she couldn't stop her anger - and hurt - from pouring out. 

He listened silently, letting her speak. When she was done, he wrapped her in a hug and they sat there for some time like that, just holding each other. Finally, he let go of her and let out a breath. He spied Needle sitting against the wall and eyed her warily.

"Can I speak my mind without you turning your Needle on me?"

She rolled her eyes, but held up her hands in appeasement. 

"I am in no way saying what he did was right, but I do understand why he did it." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to interrupt, and waited until she closed it again, glowering at him. "Arya, try to think about this from his perspective for a moment. Bastards...we don't lead the same lives as others do. I'm a bastard, same as he. Just because I knew my father doesn't mean I didn't know hate, or ridicule." 

He paused. "Gendry's never been given a reason to trust anyone. His master sold him, his new master could've killed him ... and then there's you. You trusted him, and for that he trusted you. But in his mind, your being a lady comes first. Bastards never forget their position, that I know. And for that reason, he's convinced you'd eventually leave." 

Arya couldn't hold back any longer. "I wouldn't leave him! I _offered_ to be his family!" 

"I know that, and I think maybe he does, too," Jon replied patiently. "But all those other people he doesn't trust - he thinks they'll find a way to take you away. And that scares him. Because you're all he has. Had." 

Arya was silent as Jon's words sank in. 

"So then ... there's no point? I can't change his mind?" she asked quietly, looking down at her lap.

"No, Arya. You're the only one who _can_."

She looked at Jon then, and he was smiling softly. She leaned against him, tired and full of too many feelings at once. She woke up on her bed, Jon nowhere to be found, but she knew what she had to do.

She walked down to the forge slowly, hearing the melodic ring of his hammer as she got near. It ached, how familiar this felt already. She pushed open the door and closed it behind her, walking over to sit on the bench across from the anvil. Gendry paused only slightly before continuing his work. Again, the familiarity coursed through her. 

When he was done, he laid the hammer down slowly, but his head remained bowed.

"M'lady." His voice was gruff, just as she remembered, but now she also recognized the resignation.

"Why do you always say that?"

His eyebrows knitted together and he finally looked at her. "Because ... that's who you are."

"No." She hopped down from the bench, moving closer to him. "I've told you a thousand times, _I am no lady_. I'm Arya. Just Arya. And you're Gendry." 

He stared at her, seemingly unable to move from behind the anvil. 

"What are you doing here, Gendry?"

"I'm smithing for your sister." 

"I can see that. Why?" 

"Why not?"

"That's not an answer." 

"You really need me to spell it out for you?" When Arya only raised an eyebrow, he sighed. "I was waiting for you. I needed to know you were okay."

"That's all?"

"What else is there?"

"Well, you can see I'm fine. So why are you still here?"

Hurt flashed across his face. "Arya, I-"

She didn't let him finish. "Better question - you were just going to make sure I'm okay and be alright with me never speaking to you again?" 

He stiffened. "If that's what m'lady wants." 

"Stop it!" She was unaware she'd been moving until she found herself standing in front of him. 

"Why, Gendry?"

"What do you want from me?" He was frustrated, but he was still holding back.

"I want you to be my friend again, stupid!"

" _You_ weren't talking to _me_ ," he shot back. " _M'lady_."

"Because you won't let me in!" Arya fought to keep her voice steady. "You did it four years ago and you're doing it again now, and I'm done with it." 

His eyes were wide with surprise, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times before finding his voice again. "So what, you want me gone, then?" He finally asked.

Now Arya's eyes were wide, and she grabbed his hands, locking her fingers with his. " _Stupid_. I'm asking you to stay. Stay, and let me be your family." 

His eyes closed, but she caught the deep longing there. He shook his head. "That can't be." 

"Then _why are you here?_ " Her voice softened. "It can be, if you just let it." She was pleading now, but for her sake or his, she wasn't sure anymore. "Please, let it." 

He didn't respond, but he made no move to leave. Arya carefully let go of his hands and put her arms around his shoulders instead, resting her head against his tunic. His heart was beating fast, although he didn't move for several moments. 

She was starting to think she'd made the wrong decision when suddenly he let out a long sigh, like a burden being let down, and then his arms were around her so tight she could barely breathe. She felt him murmur her name into her neck over and over, and then an even quieter "m'lady," but she could hear the smile in it now and her slap to his head was half-hearted as he lifted her off the ground.


	33. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure and utter fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amidst all of the seriousness and sadness surrounding these two currently, I needed something happy.

Sansa was walking through the woods in the early morning light when she heard the voices. 

She stopped, uncertain, then her mouth turned up in a smile as she heard "stupid" several times in one sentence. It could only be Arya. And where there was Arya, Gendry was not far behind.

Sansa made her way quietly towards the voices, stopping only when she reached a clearing, and realized she was a ways behind the house Arya and her blacksmith now shared in the village, near his forge. She peeked around a tree to see Arya and Gendry in stance, swords out.

"Higher. _Higher_!" Arya scolded, strands of hair escaping her braid. The smith obediently raised his sword higher, a slight smile playing on his face.

"Yes, m'lady." Arya lunged and he met her with equal force, laughing outright, and Arya was fighting to stop her smile, too. Now Sansa realized why they practiced back here - the clanging would wake up all of Winterfell otherwise. 

Arya was fast, definitely faster than Gendry, thanks to her small size. But he more than made up for that in sheer strength, years of smithing having built up his own stamina and force. 

It was a game, Sansa realized as she watched them. They both knew all the steps already, teasing each other at every turn. They were dancing, in their own bizarre way. 

Arya had never looked so free, so uncaring, as she did here. She still joked with Jon and Rickon, and with Sansa too, but no longer was she eager to meet new visitors who walked through the doors of Winterfell. She was at her happiest when training with her students, or so Sansa had thought until now.

She was smiling more easily, and no longer moving in her unnervingly quiet manner. She was loud and fierce and so, so alive. 

Gendry, for his part, was as open as Sansa had ever seen him. Around her, he was almost always quiet and courteous - it still tickled her that he was so conscious of his courtesies when Arya cared so little for them. 

He was joking and smiling, his eyes alight as he and Arya dueled. Finally, she managed to knock his sword out of his hand and back him into a tree, her expression smug. He put his hands up in mock surrender and she smiled, putting her sword down.

"Better. But you're still not getting your arm up fast enough. You've got to move your feet-" she let out an ungainly shriek as Gendry picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, strolling around the field jauntily with no care. She'd dropped her sword on the ground in surprise, so she pummeled his back with her fists.

"You lumbering oaf! Put me down!" But even Sansa could hear the breathless laughter in her voice, and she knew Gendry wasn't fooled either. 

"How's that? Was that fast enough for you? Maybe I should run back to the castle with you like this, hmm?"

"Shut up." 

Gendry laughed and put her down gently, kissing the top of her nose before letting go. She stuck her tongue out at him and pushed him, hard, to the ground. He chuckled, uncaring, and grabbed her wrist, pulling her down on top of him. 

Sansa turned away, smiling, knowing their dance was done for the morning.


	34. Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow up to Chapter 32, Afraid. Sansa's POV of the next day.

Neither Arya nor her smith had made it to dinner the previous night. Arya hadn't returned to her room, either. Sansa hoped that meant things had gone well. She knew Jon had intended to talk to her, but neither had seen Arya since. 

So she waited in her room until Arya came in, still in yesterday's clothes. She looked exhausted, but ... happy. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and her face was content in a way Sansa hadn't seen in years. 

She didn't seem surprised to see Sansa, waving hello and taking off her cloak as a yawn overtook her. 

"How are you this morning?" Sansa asked, amused. 

"Fine. I'm sorry if I worried you." She did seem genuinely apologetic, a slight miracle in itself.

"And how are things with your blacksmith?" Sansa ventured. Arya looked away, and Sansa swore she saw pink on her cheeks.

"He's fine too." 

"Mmm." Arya's eyes narrowed at her, and Sansa had to bite back a laugh. "So you're both fine." 

"Yes." Arya crossed her arms defiantly, eyebrow raised, daring Sansa to keep going. But she didn't rise to the bait, instead nodding and changing the subject.

"I think Jon wants to help with training the young ones today." 

Arya's eyes flashed in surprise at the change in topic, before her mask slipped back into place, and she nodded. "I'll catch him up over breakfast." 

Sansa stood up to leave, but couldn't resist hugging Arya briefly before heading out the door. Her sister was glowing, and she had no idea. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sansa's suspicions were confirmed at the practice yard. She had come to watch the students train with Jon and Arya and some of the older soldiers, surprising herself by having so much fun watching Jon and Arya as teachers. The younger girls were all enamored with Jon, and it amused her to no end. Arya was in a noticeably better mood, teasing her students - and Jon - often. 

Sansa was surprised when Gendry showed up, leaning against the rail to watch. Occasionally, he'd be met by a villager or two about a job or repair, but otherwise he was paying attention to Arya. 

When they took a break, Arya saw him and her face softened considerably as she walked over. He grinned and produced a lemon cake from his bag, and this time Arya definitely blushed. They chatted quietly, Arya occasionally swatting his shoulder at something he said. 

When Jon readied the students once more, Sansa watched as Arya gripped her smith's hand briefly for a moment, mouthing "thank you." He smiled, and leaned in close, bringing her hand to his lips briefly. She pushed him away, smiling softly, and went back to her students.

Sansa smiled to herself. _Fine, indeed._


	35. Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU - Gendry's been gone for a while and Arya realizes she misses him more than she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yup. more fluff.

The clock read 7:55. Arya put aside her book and stretched. Gendry would be calling soon, as he had every day this week. He was currently miles away at some conference his professor had arranged for his tiny class of six to attend for 10 days. 

Arya hadn’t thought 10 days could feel this long. She felt like a silly girl when her stomach jumped every time the phone rang at night, but then his voice would come on the other end and as usual, she’d forget her worries.

She was rattled to admit that she missed him. A lot. She’d gotten quite used to seeing him after class or at the end of the day – and sometimes at the beginning, too, when she’d stay over. 

Her phone rang, and she glanced at the clock again as she picked it up. 8:00. Always right on time, he was.

“Hi.”

“Hey you. Finish that paper yet?” She could practically hear him grinning.

“I’m working on it,” she replied tartly. “How was your day?”

“Pretty cool, actually. They had some workshops so we got to do some hands on stuff finally.” 

“That’s good.” There was a strange hum in the background. “Where are you?”

“Heading back to the hotel. Why?”

“Nothing, your voice just sounded odd.” 

“My signal’s been acting up around here, that could be it.” 

“Mmm.” 

She was silent for a moment.

“I miss you, you know.” 

“Yeah?” He was smiling again, she was sure of it.

“Yeah.” 

“Miss you too, love.” His voice was soft, and she couldn’t help but smile at the endearment. 

“So.” She cleared her throat. “What’s the schedule for the next few days?”

“Well, the rest of the conference isn’t all that relevant to my area of study, so it’ll be a bit odd.” 

She frowned. “That makes no sense. Why do you even have to stay then?”

“That’s exactly what I asked Professor Hammond.”

“And?” Arya pressed after he was silent, and he chuckled.

“ _And,_ he agreed. Which is why," he dragged out the words, "I’m currently standing outside waiting for you to let me in.” 

“What?!” Arya nearly tumbled off her bed in her haste to get to her window. Sure enough, Gendry was standing outside, phone to his ear, while Jon leaned against the car behind him, both wearing identical grins.

“I’m going to kill you. _And_ you,” Arya breathed, pointing a finger at Jon before tossing her phone on the bed and all but flying out the door.

She could hear their laughter as she opened the door, so she stood there, hands on hips, refusing to rush to Gendry like she so wanted to. He didn’t move, one eyebrow cocked at her but still grinning. Jon clapped him on the back and ruffled Arya’s hair as he passed her, only smiling in response to her glare. 

Gendry walked up the steps toward her, stopping on the second step so that they were eye-to-eye.

“Hi, you,” he said again, softly, cupping her chin. 

She gave in, throwing her arms around his shoulders and tucking her face in his neck, as his arms moved to her waist and he lifted her off her feet for a moment before setting her back down gently. She didn’t let go, only murmuring into his ear, “I would have come to pick you up, stupid.” 

“I know,” he replied. “But this was better.”


	36. Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. Gendry's winter break at uni.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't stop with the fluff.

Gendry hit the snooze button for the third time, still half-asleep. He’d come back late last night after working at Mott’s for longer than usual. 

It was winter break, and campus was nearly deserted. Gendry quite preferred it this way, if he was being honest. Although it would have been more fun if Arya and Jon had been here too. Especially Arya.

They were on vacation with their family. Arya had resisted after finding out Gendry would be staying alone at his apartment, but he'd convinced her to go. He didn’t want her to take her family for granted. She’d relented, albeit grudgingly.

The Motts lived near enough that he’d been there for dinner a few times already. He was thinking about repairing their leaky roof next week when his phone buzzed.

He nearly smacked it before realizing it wasn’t his alarm, and smiled when he saw the number.

“You’re up early.”

“Hello to you too,” Arya responded, clearly amused.

“Hi. What’s got you up at this hour?”

She didn't answer, only asked her own question in turn. “How are you still asleep? Don’t you usually wake up at the crack of dawn?”

“It’s winter break.” He grinned, even though she couldn’t see him.

“Mmm. How’s that going?”

“Good,” Gendry yawned, and he heard Arya chuckle on the other end. “Been to visit the Motts a bit, might fix their roof next week.” 

“That’s very nice of you.” 

“I’m a nice guy.” 

“Right,” Arya replied dryly, and he laughed.

“I miss you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Then let me in.” 

Gendry was wide awake suddenly. “Come again?”

“Let me in, stupid.” She was laughing now.

He tumbled out of bed, nearly tripping on his sheets as he pulled on a shirt over his sweats and opened the door.

And there she was, like the best dream he’d ever had, except better because she was real and standing there in front of him grinning. 

She picked up her duffel and came over to him, clearly enjoying his gobsmacked expression.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?” He finally asked when he’d found his voice.

“ _Family_ vacation.” She looped her arms around his waist. “You’re my family too, silly.”


	37. Mine

Arya was waiting for Gendry in the forge with Nymeria when he finally walked in, long after dinner had ended.

He stopped slightly when he saw her, then smiled and shook his head.

"What?"

"Nothing." He was still smiling.

"Liar." He didn't reply. "Gendry," she said pointedly.

"Arya," he replied. When she raised her eyebrows, waiting, he smirked and walked over to her, leaning down until the tip of his nose brushed hers.

"Hi."

"Hi. What were you thinking about?"

He smiled again. "You never quit, do you?" When she only stared at him, waiting, he gave in. "I was thinking, I could get used to this." 

Her face scrunched in confusion. "To what?"

"You, being here. At the end of every day."

"Oh," was all she could think to say to that. She could feel herself smiling like a fool, but as he leaned in to kiss her, she couldn't bring herself to care.

Then Nymeria butted her head against Gendry and he pulled away to greet her.

"I went to see Lady Sansa," he said as he patted Nymeria.

"I figured." She'd warned Sansa earlier about Gendry asking to be legitimized. "Did she pass on my message?"

Gendry chuckled. "Very clearly." It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "So you'll only take me if I'm a bastard, then?"

"Afraid so." 

He hugged her tightly then, picking her up off from the bench entirely, and she laughed. "So are you finally done worrying about this?"

He sighed against her collarbone. "I think so. Although..." His voice trailed off and she pulled back.

"What?"

"Your sister mentioned another thing, too. Something about a small house nearby?"

"Oh." Arya flushed again, cursing Sansa. "She...might have said something the other day. She just...wasn't sure if the cot in the back would be enough space...if I...if we..." Gods, she was not ready for this conversation.

"Do you want to see it?" His voice was soft.

She did. She really did. "Do you?"

His ears were red, but he nodded, locking his fingers with hers. She smiled, realizing they were both nervous, and gripped his hand tighter. 

She led him out of the forge and to the house close by. They stood in front, looking it over, until Arya couldn't take it and opened the front door, wanting to move around. It clearly hadn't been used, though it was one of the first fixed up during rebuilding. It wasn't large by any means, but Arya liked it that way. Only room for what she - they - needed.

It looked cozy, she thought. She turned to see Gendry looking around wonderingly, unaware of her watching. 

"What do you think?" She asked after a while.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "It's nice. I think I could fix up the roof a bit more."

"Not too small?"

"Gods, no. What would we do with more space?" She grinned at that, and he grinned back.

His face became serious after a moment, and he asked softly, "So ... this would really be ours?"

Arya nodded. "All ours. If we want it."

"I've never had anything to call anything mine before," he murmured, almost to himself, and Arya couldn't help but put her arms around him.

"Well now you have two," she whispered to him. "Three, if you include the forge." He smiled at that, _really_ smiled, and she made a note to thank Sansa after all.


	38. Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. Nighttime conversation between Arya and Gendry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many finals this week but today is Sunday so really nothing else matters. My priorities...

Arya was walking around the room in nothing but his shirt, her hair loose about her shoulders. It was the middle of the night, but neither of them could sleep. So they'd been talking, about anything and everything (among other things, Gendry thought with a small grin). Arya looked at his walls, bare besides the few pictures he had of the Motts, and now, Jon and herself.

“I have a map on my wall.” She turned to him where he watched her from the bed.

“I remember.” It was huge, right above her desk, with blue and red pins all over it.

“I’ve been marking the places I want to go.”

“So…everywhere?” He grinned when her eyes narrowed at him and she stuck out her tongue.

“No, not _everywhere,_.” She paused. “I do want to travel, though. I want to see things, learn things that aren't in books.” 

“I know.” 

She was silent for a while, lingering at a picture of him with his foster parents. “What about you?” She finally asked. 

Gendry gave it some thought before answering. “I suppose I’ve never felt at home anywhere, until …” he trailed off when he realized what he’d been about to say. _Until now. Until I met you._ “Until I came to uni and met you and Jon. But I’d like to think there’s more out there to be found.”

“Mmm.” She eyed him, trying to figure out what he’d left out, but let it be for the moment. 

He stretched and got up from the bed, clad in sweats and a T-shirt. “Where’d you want to go first?”

She bit her lip before responding. “The Free Cities, I think. I want to see something different.”

“I’ve never seen the sea.” Gendry watched her, trying to gauge her reply.

“I saw it once, when I was younger.” She stepped closer, tangling her hands with his, but keeping her eyes on her feet. “I think you’d like it," she said softly. 

His heart soared, and he bent down to touch his forehead to hers, brushing his nose against hers once, twice, before letting go of her hands and picking her up gently. Her hands clutched his shoulders immediately, and her legs wrapped around his waist as she met his eyes. He leaned into to kiss her, making her sigh as he sucked on her lower lip. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders more securely and she rocked against him, making him groan. She grinned, eyes alight.

He thought, taking in her curved lips and dancing eyes, that sleeping was definitely overrated.


	39. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers through Storm of Swords.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> urgh. my response to last night 3x06. part two is coming next chapter, probably tonight.

Gendry heard heavy footsteps nearby but didn’t move from his spot by the fire. _Why bother._ He was as good as dead anyways.

The steps got closer, then stopped again, and he heard a hushed voice.

“If you’re going to kill me, please get it over with now,” he called out. “I’m in no mood for games.”

The voices stopped, and then a man wrapped heavily in furs stepped into view. 

“We have no reason to kill you. We’re just surprised to see a fire this far north.” His voice was low, but Gendry thought he spoke genuinely.

“It’s a good place to not be found," he replied, looking at the fire. “You’re welcome to sit, you and your men.”

The stranger nodded his thanks and made what sounded like a bird call, and his men emerged from the woods, wrapped similarly in furs. They were of varying ages, though most seemed young, closer to his age. There was no question as to who was their leader.

He took a seat next to Gendry and pushed back his hood, revealing curly, thick black hair and a young face. But his eyes – they told a different story, of a life plagued by burdens and hard decisions. He looked as weary as Gendry felt. 

Gendry held out his hand. “Gendry Waters.” _That’s who I am now. Who I always was._

“Waters?” The stranger looked at him, and his mouth slowly curled into a smile, as if remembering how to do so after a long time. He shook his hand. “Jon Snow.”

Now Gendry felt his mouth twitch also. “Snow?” 

Jon laughed outright, then. “What are the chances,” he murmured, still shaking his head. 

Then Gendry remembered something else, and his smile faltered. “Are you … are you from the Night’s Watch?”

Jon eyed him cautiously, and Gendry could tell he was deciding how much to tell him. “We were.” He sighed heavily. “No longer.” 

“Are you … was Lord Stark your father?”

This time Jon’s eyes snapped to his and his hand went to the dagger by his belt. Gendry held up his hands. “I only ask because I knew a girl once, who talked of a brother at The Wall and a father … accused, in King’s Landing.” 

Jon’s face softened immediately. “You met Arya? When? How long ago?”

“A few years ago. We were part of the Night’s Watch recruits before-“ _Before everything went to hell._

“The Night’s Watch doesn’t take girls,” Jon said, confused. Gendry had to bite back a laugh, remembering his first real conversation with Arya.

“Yoren disguised her as a boy. He was going to bring her to Winterfell…” Gendry shook his head, saddened by the memory, but made himself continue. “He was killed by Gold Cloaks. We were taken to Harrenhal, but escaped. Then the Brotherhood Without Banners found us. That was when we got separated.”

“What happened?”

“The Red Priestess happened.” 

Jon’s eyes widened. “Melisandre?”

Now it was Gendry’s turn to be surprised. “You know her?”

“Aye, I know her.” His voice had a dark edge to it. “She’s something.”

“She is.” 

“She took Arya?”

“No…she came for me.” 

“Why?”

Gendry shook his head, not wanting to go into it.

“You’re in safe company here," Jon said quietly. "I swear it. I swear it on Arya.” 

Gendry sighed and rubbed his face. “It appears ... that I am one of King Robert’s last living bastards.” 

Jon was quiet for a moment. “Let me guess – she wanted you to fight for the throne.” 

“Among other things, yeah.”

“Did you?”

“Not at first. Then … then we heard about the Red Wedding, and I went mad. I took the men she gave me and we wiped out the Freys.” 

“That was you?”

“Aye.”

“So what are you doing here?”

Gendry smiled bitterly. “Waiting, running, hiding. Take your pick.” 

“Believe it or not, I know the feeling.” Gendry looked at him then, and saw that he did. He continued quietly, “I’m not so proud of my past either.” 

They sat in silence for some time, until Jon finally turned to Gendry. “Will you travel with us? Fight with me.”

“I’m no warrior. I was always meant to be a smith.”

“Then be _our smith_. I can teach you basic moves so that you can defend yourself.” Gendry hesitated, wondering if he was an idiot for trusting yet another person. But this wasn’t just some other person. This was Arya’s brother. 

Jon waited, letting him decide. 

“Where are you going?” Gendry finally asked. 

“Winterfell. We’re taking it back.” He sounded so like Arya in that moment that Gendry had to grin, and he knew his decision was made.


	40. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Companion to chapter 39. Spoilers through ADwD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because I couldn't wait until tonight. these is seriously cathartic for me, and hopefully for you readers too!

Gendry swung his hammer, deflecting Jon’s sword once again. They’d been at it for almost an hour, but his arm was strong, even stronger than he’d thought he could be. He was starting to see why Arya had seemed to like practicing so much.

Arya. 

She was all he thought of nowadays, being around her brother so much. Jon would share stories from when they were little and Gendry tried to respond in kind, searching for the good memories. It ached to remember, sometimes. It hurt even more to wonder what might have happened to her.

He never really knew, after all. Someone had seen her at the Twins around the time of the Red Wedding, but nobody, not even the red witch, could tell him if she’d made it out alive. So he burned them all. Burned everything to the ground until all he could see was ashes, dark as the soot from his forge. And then he was lost, again. 

He had no desire for the bloody throne. Them that wanted to play their game could leave him out of it. He’d packed up in the night and left, never looking back. In the north, he’d met Jon Snow and his band of Night’s Watch outcasts. They’d been traveling together since.

Jon was about to strike again when he paused. “Don’t move.”

Gendry froze. “What-“

Jon held up a hand for silence, then, quietly: “She’s back."

Gendry lowered his arm slowly, gently setting the hammer on the ground before turning. The grey wolf was there again, standing by a tree at the edge of the clearing. 

“Nymeria,” he heard Jon breathe behind him.

Arya’s direwolf. It had to be. She was enormous, but he knew one quick movement from him and she’d either bound off or go for his throat. 

_Not quite unlike Arya._ The thought sprang unbidden to his mind, making him smile, and Nymeria stepped forward. Gendry held out his hand, palm up, and waited. After an eternity, Nymeria took another step forward, and another, until she was butting up against his hand. 

Jon relaxed, and Gendry allowed himself to marvel at what was happening. He’d been seeing her for days now, but mostly as a shadow. He’d glimpse her running during the day, or watching silently at night before he fell asleep, and he’d been certain it was his mind playing tricks on him. But she was here and very real, and he couldn’t help but see it as a good sign. 

In the days that followed, Nymeria stayed close to camp. She disappeared now and then, but almost always returned. One night, she reappeared, whining, and latched onto Gendry’s sleeve.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” He tried to disengage himself, but it was no use, so he shrugged at Jon and let himself be led outside the camp, Jon following at a close distance. 

Suddenly Nymeria stopped and let out a howl, making the hair on Gendry’s arms stand up. 

Nymeria howled again, and then he saw her.

_Arya._

She stepped out from behind a massive oak tree, nearly blending in with the night. Nymeria trotted up to her and pulled her forward by her cloak. She was taller than he remembered, but still much shorter than him. But now she moved with a quiet, deadly grace, her hair long again and tied loosely behind her. She was still in a ratty tunic and leggings, though, and he latched onto the familiarity.

He remained frozen in place, only able to stare at her as she neared. She was looking him over as well, slight astonishment in her eyes. He reached out a hand, barely grazing her jaw, when he heard Jon behind him.

“Arya?”

Gendry moved out of the way swiftly, letting Jon see her. And then Jon was running towards them, laughing and crying all at once, picking up Arya like she was a child again. Her shock turned into sheer joy, and Gendry could see the tears on her face as Jon swung her around. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was sitting by the fire late into the night when he felt her drop into place next to him. They sat staring at the flames in silence for some time, the rest of the men asleep around them.

“I thought you were dead.” His voice came out hoarse.

“I thought she’d never let you go alive,” Arya replied. He didn’t have to ask who _she_ was.

“She didn’t. Not entirely, anyways.” He looked down. “A part of me died out there, I think. Not that I want it back.” 

“What happened, Gendry?” 

He savored his name on her lips before answering. “Remember when you asked me who my father was? What did I say?”

“It could have been one of the Gold Cloaks, for all you knew,” she replied almost instantly, and he tried not to smile.

“Yeah. Well turns out my guess was pretty close.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “She wanted me to reclaim the throne in my … father’s name.” He kept his eyes on the fire.

“Your father … King Robert?” She whispered.

He nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

“Gods. And that’s why my father came to see you in King’s Landing?”

He nodded again, and she was silent for some time.

“So how did you get away from her?”

“She kept me with her at first. Wanted to show me off to … my uncle, as it were. Appears I’ve got a cousin, too,” he said bitterly. “I refused most of what she told me to do, until … until we heard about The Twins.” 

Arya kept silent, and the words poured out of him. “There was word you’d been seen nearby, but nobody knew whether you’d come out. Even her precious visions couldn’t tell me that. I didn’t know what to do …” he sighed, pulling himself from the memory. “So I finally took the men she was offering me and we killed the Freys. All of them.

“Then _Ramsay Bolton_ ,” he spat the name out, “went around announcing he was marrying Arya Stark and I _knew,_ I knew then and there you were dead because no way would you agree to that. So I left. Came north, and your brother found me one day and insisted I stay with him. And now here you are,” he finished wonderingly, looking at her. 

Arya stared back at him, grey eyes full of wonder and sadness, but thankfully, he noted, not pity. 

“Where _were_ you, Arya?”

She took a deep breath, looking away. “I was learning to kill.”

“The Hound snatched me from the Brotherhood after you … after she took you away. He wanted to ransom me off at The Twins, but when we got there things were already going to hell and we got attacked. I escaped and made off on a boat to Braavos.” 

“What made you come back?”

“I kept trying to forget myself, forget everything, and I nearly succeeded,” she said. “Until I heard stories of a new wolf prince fighting for Winterfell , with his wolf-shaped helm.” She paused and eyed Gendry sidelong. “You made that, didn’t you?”

He had. In the early days he’d traveled with the men and there was little work, he’d begun work on a new helm to replace his bull. Until he realized he wasn’t making it for himself after all.

“It’s beautiful,” she smiled at him, and he nodded his thanks.

They were quiet then, as the flames burned their embers into the night sky.

Gendry said quietly, “I’m very glad you aren’t dead, m'lady.” 

She shoved him, albeit half-heartedly. "Stupid." Then she surprised both of them by laying her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad to see you too.”


	41. Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU fluff. Set somewhere around the time after Gendry's fight with Joffrey (Chapters 25 and 26), but before the Stark parents visit (Chapter 27)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluff fluff fluff! FLUFF! okay that's all.

Gendry was sitting at his desk doing research for his term paper when he heard the knock at his door. He glanced at the clock as he got up - 3:00 in the afternoon. Who could possibly need him right now?

He swung the door open to find Arya standing outside his room, books in hand and backpack over her shoulder. Her hair was twisted into a messy braid, and her grey eyes were dull and tired, absent of the mischief that so often filled them. She looked exhausted.

“Hey.” He was unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

“Hi. Are you busy?”

“Not really, just working on a paper,” he replied, still looking her over in concern. “Arya, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replied almost reflexively. “I just-“ She paused, biting her lip. “Could I stay here for a while? Just to study. I just need some quiet. I can’t think at our place.”

Gendry opened his door wider, stepping back to let her in, and she smiled tiredly at him. 

“You can sit on the bed or take the desk. There’s not much more room I’m afraid, other than the floor,” he grinned sheepishly, rubbing his neck nervously. 

She took a look at his papers all over the desk next to his laptop and dropped her bag on the bed. “This is fine. Thanks, Gendry.”

“Of course. If you, uh, want anything to eat or drink,” he gestured to the fridge. “Help yourself.”

He sat down at his desk, feeling oddly like he should offer to do something else, but he wasn’t sure what that was. “I might not be such great company right now, with this paper and all.”

She waved a hand. “If I wanted you chatting my head off I’d have stayed at home.” Already she was sitting cross-legged on his bed, pulling a pen out from her bag and opening her textbook.

He smiled and turned back to his work, aware that he was far too happy at how the day was turning out. 

He and Arya had been spending more time together since the whole Joffrey incident, but neither had admitted to why. He wasn’t even sure he knew himself. All he knew was that he was definitely not looking at her like his best friend’s baby sister anymore, and he was hoping that maybe, just _maybe_ she might be seeing him differently also.

An hour passed in comfortable silence as they both focused on their work. Gendry was used to working alone, preferring quiet over constant conversation. People had a need to fill every empty space with incessant chatter and it drove him mad. 

But Arya was different. She was fine with silence. If anything, she seemed to welcome it these days. He knew things were tough at home, with Bran’s accident and Sansa’s troubles with Joffrey. Not to mention now Jon’s troubles with Joffrey. Gendry had his own issues with the little prick. The kid was good at making enemies.

Gendry yawned, standing up to stretch when he realized things were a little too quiet behind him. He turned to see Arya fast asleep on his bed, her pen still in her hand. He smiled softly – something he seemed to do a lot around her lately. She looked so at peace he was hesitant to move at first. He gently moved her bookbag onto the floor, setting her books beside it and taking the pen out of her hand. She shifted softly and grasped his hand as he was about to pull away.

“Gendry?” Her voice was thick with sleep.

“Sshh, it’s just me,” he replied softly. “Go back to sleep, love.” _Love?_ Where had that come from? Arya’s grip on his hand tightened slightly.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’m here.” He stroked his thumb over her hand soothingly until he felt her grip slacken and she was fast asleep again. Since she had fallen asleep on top of the covers, he grabbed his hoodie and put it over her, grinning when it covered most of her petite frame.

He texted Jon to let him know Arya was with him and not to worry. He didn’t need angry Starks coming after him tonight.

After settling back in at his desk, he worked on his paper for another hour before his stomach grumbled. Realizing Arya probably hadn’t eaten most of the day either, he decided to put something together. After quietly scoping out the contents of his cupboard, he decided on pasta. Pasta was simple. Less chance for error.

He set the pasta to boil and chopped some mushrooms and peppers, warming the sauce on the side. Frying the veggies would definitely wake her, but he figured if there was food awaiting her it might be alright. As the veggies sizzled in the pan, he heard Arya shift slowly on the bed and put the gas on low before turning around.

She was sitting up groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes while still clutching his hoodie with one hand, and it made him smile. 

“Sorry about that. How long was I out?”

“Couple hours.”

“God." She ran her fingers through her hair, making a face when she realized most of it had escaped her braid. “Jon must be-“

“I texted him. It’s alright.” 

“Oh. Thanks.” She sniffed and shifted, trying to see past his broad form. “That smells great.” 

He turned back to the pasta, mixing the sauce and veggies together. “There’s more than enough, if you’d like some.” _Say yes._

She paused for a moment, then relented. “That would be nice, actually. I’ll just wash up.”

Gendry smiled to himself and finished up, ready with two plates of food when Arya came out, her braid undone and hair loose over her shoulders. He nodded at the folding dinner trays he had stacked in the corner.

“Could you …?” 

She pulled out one and set it up by the bed. When she went to grab another, he shook his head, setting both their plates on the tray and pulling his desk chair up. She sat cross-legged on his bed again, his hoodie folded neatly next to her, and began to eat.

“This is delicious,” she mumbled after a minute. His nervousness settled and he grinned at her, pleased.

“I haven’t had a real meal in ages,” she said quietly. He was about to tease her when she continued. “We haven’t been grocery shopping in weeks. Jon’s been at Ygritte’s most nights. Sansa…when she’s not with Marg, she’s busy with her club or graduate applications. Mum’s been with Bran at the hospital.” 

“How is he?” Gendry asked softly.

She shrugged. “Same as ever. I don’t think much is going to change now. Just a matter of getting used to it. They’re installing ramps in the house next week. For the wheelchair.”

Gendry nodded in understanding. “I know it’s not a lot,” he finally said, “but I can take you for groceries sometime, if you want. I usually go every other weekend anyways.” He plowed on, not looking at her. “And you know, you’re welcome to stay here whenever you like, too. If you need a break from … everything else.” 

“Thank you.” She smiled at him softly before raising an eyebrow. “That better not be what you say to all the girls you cook dinner for, Waters.”

He shook his head. "I've never made dinner for a girl before.” It slipped out before he had time to think about what it meant.

Arya’s lips parted slightly in surprise, and he took advantage of the silence to take his dish to the sink and begin cleaning up. When he went back to take her empty plate, she asked, “Why me, then?”

“What?” He stood in front of her, hand still outstretched to take her plate.

“Why did you make dinner for _me_?” She was watching him, her face unreadable.

He shrugged shyly. “Because I wanted to.”

She smiled up at him, her cheeks pink, and rose so she was kneeling on his bed, closer to eye level with him. Before he could ask what she was doing, she reached out and pulled him closer, her lips brushing his cheek softly.

“Thank you,” she whispered, before pulling back. Gendry didn’t move, both shocked and elated at once. He was delighted at the brilliant flush spreading through her cheeks (which he guessed might match his quite well), and he decided he wanted to make it happen again, very soon.


	42. Mutual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. Slightly kind-of a follow-up to Chapter 41 but not necessary to read that one, unless you want to :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand, the fluff continues.

Gendry knocked on the door, surprised when Sansa answered. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi Gendry.” She grinned knowingly. “Looking for Arya?”

“Uh, yeah. Is she around?”

“She got held up in tutoring but should be back soon. You’re welcome to wait here if you like.”

He nodded in thanks, stepping through the doorway and following the red-headed girl into the kitchen. 

“How are things?” Sansa asked.

“Better now, just finished a round of exams. You?”

She nodding knowingly. “Same. It’s a good feeling.” She stopped in the middle of packing her bag. “I should have asked, would you like anything to eat?”

“There’s food here?” When her mouth twitched, he smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m actually taking Arya for groceries, so I just assumed there was nothing much left.” 

Sansa chuckled. “You might be right. I haven’t been here in a while, so I’m not sure.” She paused. “Thanks for helping out. Especially with Arya.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “No problem.”

“She’s not always easy to get along with.” 

He shrugged. “Neither am I, I suppose.” 

She nodded, watching him carefully for a moment. Then she added casually, “She likes you, you know. A lot.”

He felt his mouth turn up in a foolish smile. “It’s mutual,” he responded honestly.

“I know,” Sansa laughed. 

She hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’m glad you punched Joffrey.”

“Honestly? Me too.” 

At that moment, the front door creaked open again, and Gendry heard a heavy bag thump on the floor. 

“We’re in here,” Sansa called out.

“We? Who-?” Arya entered the kitchen, stopping when she saw him. “Gendry. Hi.”

“Hey.” 

“What are you doing here?”

“You two are getting groceries,” Sansa informed her – a little too gleefully, he thought.

“We are?” Arya looked at him questioningly.

“Yeah, I figured today might be good for it, being the end of the week and all," he explained. "And it's good weather for once … maybe we can grab a bite or something after. If you’re busy, though-“

“I’m not busy,” she replied at the same time that Sansa piped up, “She’s not busy.”

Arya narrowed her eyes at her sister, but the pink tinge was back in her cheeks, and Gendry was enjoying himself immensely.

“Take your time. I think Jon and Ygritte might be back here later anyways.” She and Arya made nearly identical faces and Gendry bit back a laugh. “Also, Mum’s been calling. Just to check in and such.”

“I know,” Arya replied, waving her phone. “I’ve had three missed calls already this afternoon.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Sansa grinned. “You guys go. Have fun.”

“We’re getting _groceries_ , Sansa,” Arya reminded her, looking slightly embarrassed. She turned to Gendry. “Ready to go?” 

“Yeah.” He hesitated, then took her hand, linking his fingers with hers. She looked at him, her expression surprised yet pleased.

“See you later,” he told Sansa, as Arya waved to her.

“I’m sure I will,” she replied in a sing-song voice.

Arya rolled her eyes at him as they left, but didn’t let go of his hand the whole way.


	43. Groceries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I just can't stop. Followup to Chapter 42.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF. Seriously, I can't stop it.

Arya didn’t know what had gotten into her lately, but she knew it was all Gendry’s fault. Although he made her blush constantly – which he thoroughly enjoyed – she always seemed to find her way to him. He seemed to be the only constant in her life, with Bran’s accident and Sansa’s (hell, _everyone’s_ ) troubles with Joffrey. She just wanted _out_ all the time, and he was more than willing to take her in.

He’d always been a good friend, but lately she didn’t feel like just an extension of Jon anymore. It was almost like they’d forged their own new friendship, learning each other again.

She’d always thought she was only comfortable hanging around Gendry with Jon around, but that had become less and less true. Instead she found herself seeking out his company on her own. She could barely admit to herself that her feelings had become more than friendly as of late, but they had.

Somehow, though, he had returned her affection. She’d realized it through his small gestures, but then that was why she liked Gendry. He was never one for a show. He was simple and good and that was more than enough for her.

She had been worried back at the house that Sansa’s teasing remarks would run him off. Instead, he’d taken her hand as if nothing had changed, and here they were getting groceries. She huffed as she saw the bottle of dish soap on the top shelf.

“Why must people make this harder?” She muttered as she set down her basket. She was used to this, but some days it got old fast. She propped her foot on the lower shelf, testing her weight, then pushed herself up, jumping up but only managing to push the bottle back further on the shelf before gravity pulled her back down. 

She was about to try again when she felt him right behind her, his chest nearly brushing her back.

“I got it,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear. His arm reached up far past hers to pluck the bottle from the shelf and into her basket. She turned, acutely aware of how close they were, and looked up at him. 

His blue eyes were amused. “You gave it a good try,” he teased. She stuck her tongue out at him and waited for him to move. 

Only, he didn’t.

Instead he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers for a moment before pulling away. She froze in delighted shock for a moment before realizing he might take it the wrong way, and curled her fingers in his shirt to pull him back down. 

When his lips touched hers again, she returned the kiss, pressing against him and feeling his arms go around her. Only when her back pressed against the metal shelf did she remember where she was, and pulled her mouth from his. They stood there, grinning like idiots in the middle of the grocery store, and Arya had to laugh.

“This is your idea of grocery shopping?” Her traitorous voice came out breathless.

“You seem to like it well enough,” he responded smugly, the bastard. He was grinning full-on now, and leaned down to kiss her again.

Arya pushed him away, still smiling, and grabbed her basket, heading to the next aisle. He caught up easily and looped his arm around her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her hair, and she thought if this part of her life could feel so right, it might be enough to face everything else.


	44. Observations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future-fic. Far and beyond ADwD. A visiting lord has an interesting experience at Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Irenka, whose comment about "baby drabbles" simply would not leave my head ;) so this happened.

Silas was walking through the corridors of Winterfell, conversing with Queen Sansa and her brother - and guard - Jon, when a curious thing happened.

There was a commotion in the neighboring hall and suddenly a small child barreled through the door, nearly crashing into the trio.

The people passing them grinned knowingly as the young boy’s face lit up at the sight of Jon and Sansa, before his face clouded upon seeing they weren’t alone. He held up his makeshift sword and shield of scrap metal, pointing it at him.

“Who are you?” He demanded.

Jon muffled a laugh and the queen herself couldn’t contain her smile, but before they could answer, a tall, dark-haired man entered the hall, eyes widening upon seeing the scene before him. He scooped up the boy, tickling his stomach and eliciting squeals from him. “Gotcha, little man. Who are you terrorizing now?” 

He looked at the queen and her companions. “Sorry about this, Your Grace.” He nodded at Silas. “M’lord.” 

He looked familiar, but before Silas could place him, a woman skidded into the hall, nearly colliding with him. Brown hair escaped her long braid wildly as she put her hands on her hips, trying – and failing – not to smile. 

“Micah, you rascal,” she scolded him, even while smiling. The boy burst into laughter and reached for her. She noticed they had company and shook her head.

“Is this how you greet your aunt and uncle?” She demanded, quite as he had earlier.

Her husband – he had to be, the way he was looking at her – patted Micah on the back and set him down gently, turning him towards the trio once more. Now Silas could see he had thick black hair, just like his dad, but his eyes were as grey as the rainclouds. 

Jon stepped forward to pull the boy off the floor once more in a hug before handing him to his sister. 

“Lord Silas, you’ve met my nephew Micah,” she grinned at him. “This is my sister Arya, and her husband Gendry.” 

They both nodded at him, Arya laying her head on her husband’s shoulder for a moment. 

“Sister?" Silas looked between them. "Then … are you Lady St-“

“None of that,” she cut him off, waving a hand tiredly. “Just Arya and Gendry.” 

Silas nodded, amused. The queen smiled when she got a sloppy kiss from her nephew before setting him back down, when he ran immediately to his father.

As he watched the man adjust the makeshift shield, recognition finally hit him. “You’re fixing my horse’s shoes.”

Gendry chuckled. “Aye, they’ll be ready this evening and should last you a good while.” 

He looked up at his wife, who arched an eyebrow and grinned at him as if to say “your turn.” He laughed a little. “Up you go, scoundrel,” he said, and swung the boy up on his shoulders, wincing as Micah grabbed his ears for balance. They waved and took their leave, Micah still waving his little sword from his perch on his father’s shoulders.

Silas raised an eyebrow. “He’s a lively one.” 

Jon laughed. “Aye, he takes after his mother.” 

“Not that his father discourages it at all,” the queen added. “In fact, I think he rather prefers it that way.” 

Winterfell was proving to be a most unusual place, but Silas thought he quite liked it.


	45. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ADwD, future-fic. Braavos seems full of street fights these days, always near Arya.

The shouts pulled Arya back into the shadows. 

She had been about to take to the streets, satisfied that people had finally taken themselves in for the night. As her foot stepped out of the alley, though, footsteps on the cobblestone and nearby yells caused her to pull back inside. Barely a few moments later, two men came running by, heading for the alley to the docks.

She stayed in the dark for a moment, debating her next move. Heading the other way would be the reasonable thing to do.

Arya had never been reasonable.

She took off after the two men, staying close to the walls and silent as a shadow. This was the third fight she’d heard this evening, after two the previous night. She didn’t know what people were on about, but she wanted no part. Braavos was big enough, but trouble kept finding her.

Her hand went up, subconsciously checking her cap, held in place by several pins. Her hair was braided and coiled into a bun under it, where nobody need look.

She’d been away from the Faceless Men for some time now, after a botched assignment. She’d had her arrow up, ready to take out her mark, when from nowhere, a little girl bounded into view. The man had swung his daughter into his arms, laughing and unaware of Arya’s bow pointing straight at him. Suddenly, her vision blurred and all she could see was her own father, kneeling on the steps of the sept before Ilyn Payne’s sword came down.

In that moment, she knew she would never be anyone but Arya Stark, no matter how hard she tried. 

She blinked, and watched the man walk away with his daughter, aware that her target would soon slip into the crowded street, but she didn’t let the arrow fly. She stood there watching long after they was gone, feeling lost once more. She’d been on the streets ever since, pinching pockets and catching sleep where she could.

Now she was – somewhat foolishly – following the sounds of the fight. It’d been happening near her once too often for it to be coincidence, and she meant to find out what was going on.

As the docks came into view, she stopped, staying close to the corner, and watched the scene before her. A tall, broad-shouldered man was standing with his back to her, facing four men.

“That it?” She could hear the amusement in his deep voice, and it struck her, pulling at memories she thought were long gone. “Just four to one? That doesn’t seem quite fair – to you lot, I mean.” 

They came at him, snarling, and she could practically _feel_ the grin on his face as the fight began. He swung his weapon – which she saw now was a large hammer - to meet their swords. He wasn’t fast, but he was strong. 

Then she saw the movement, at the wall opposite her. The tip of the arrow gleamed in the light from the streetlamp as it its owner aimed. 

Before she knew it, her dagger was embedded in his neck, the bow clattering to the ground. The man with the hammer turned, thinking someone was behind him, and Arya froze as his blue eyes found her. (Which was impossible, since she was still crouched in the corner, but she knew that somehow, he was aware of her). Strangely, his eyes were gleaming, almost with something akin to triumph. Then the other men took advantage of his distraction. Arya cursed when she saw the blood dripping from his arm as he turned back to the fight.

So she grabbed the dead man’s bow and fired, hearing a howl of pain as the arrow found its mark. She retrieved her dagger and headed towards the scuffle. She kicked one man from behind, sending him sprawling, and gave another a swift kick to the groin before knocking him out with the hilt of her dagger. 

She turned, breathing hard, to see the young man finish off the last of the four with his hammer. Her blood was warm and her heart was racing – entirely from the battle, of course. It had nothing to do with _him_ , who was getting closer to her by the second. She hoped the darkness would give her enough cover as she stooped to retrieve her knives.

“You should go,” she said sharply. “There’ll be more coming, with the racket you just made.” 

He grinned at her, the idiot. “Took you long enough.” 

“What?” She gaped at him.

“Thought I’d have to wake up the whole bloody city before you showed,” he remarked casually. “You were never too far from the ruckus.”

She swallowed. There was no way he could know. “I don’t know what you’re on about, but you’ve got the wrong person.” She turned to go, and he chuckled behind her.

“Did you think I’d forget you that easily, m’lady?”

She whirled on him furiously. “ _Don’t-_ ” Her voice caught, realizing she’d walked right into his trap. He knew it, too, and stepped even closer. He reached for her cap slowly, pulling it off with a tug (some help those pins were) so he could see her face properly.

“Arya,” he breathed.

She closed her eyes, realizing it had been years since she'd heard her name – her _real_ name – spoken by another person. It filled her up from head to toe, whispers of _Arya_ sighing throughout her body as if reclaiming her name, finally.

She felt a hand brush back her hair, fingers lightly trailing down her jaw and briefly over her lips, and she opened her eyes. He was bleeding from scratches on his head and arms, but he was here. 

“Gendry,” she whispered.

Their trance was broken as they heard footsteps on the pavement, nearing them by the second.

“We have to go.” Gendry held out his hand. “Do you trust me?” He tried to keep his voice light, teasing, but Arya heard it falter with uncertainty. She looked up at him, realizing she'd never really stopped trusting him, despite her anger. He was still her bull-headed old friend. He was still her Gendry. 

She took his hand, and they ran.


	46. Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU - same universe as the previous modern chapters. It's Sansa's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - yay, Mel kept her clothes on! Also, this went in a completely different direction than planned.  
> but you know what's coming. (clue: fluff)

Gendry walked up the steps, adjusting his shirt nervously before entering the house, the door already wide open to guests. 

It was Sansa’s birthday, and he’d come at her – and Arya’s – requests. She’d insisted on something small, just some friends and food and a movie or two, but he still felt odd. Jon had assured him it wouldn’t be very formal, thankfully. He was wearing a black button-up shirt and jeans, hoping that his face wasn’t showing any of the grease from the garage.

The sounds of laughter and conversation hit him as he walked through the door, and he set Sansa’s present (a book, that Arya had helped him pick out )down on the table alongside other gifts. He lingered by the stairwell, not wanting to mingle just yet. He didn’t know any of these people, really, except for the Starks. 

When he wandered into the kitchen, he was grateful to see it empty. He was about to take out his phone to text Arya when he felt her arms slide around his waist, and he grinned, turning.

“Hey you.”

“Hi. Thanks for coming.” She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “You clean up well,” she grinned.

“Thanks. You look lovely,” he said honestly, pleased at the flush that spread across her cheeks. She really did look great, he thought. She was wearing a flowing navy blue shirt and jeans, her hair partly pulled back with a clip. Her eyelids were lined in grey, making the color in her eyes stand out even more.

She hugged him closer. “This is awful. I don’t know anyone here.”

“That makes two of us.” He nuzzled her neck, knowing she was ticklish. “What do you say we escape?”

She laughed, pressing her face into his shirt. “Sansa would kill me.”

At that moment, he heard voices approach the kitchen. “Ask me again in an hour,” Arya mumbled. 

“Deal.”

The party wasn’t so bad, with Arya around. He stayed close to her most of the time, and she did the same. He had never been so grateful that neither of them was very socially gifted. It was nice to have someone to lean on.

Especially when Sansa’s friend Margaery kept refilling her own wine cup, throwing suggestive glances and numerous thumbs-ups at Arya when she thought Gendry wasn’t looking. Arya started out the evening okay, but when the food turned out to be just finger sandwiches and fruit, she grumbled. Even he had to admit, the food did kind of suck, especially since there was alcohol freely flowing. 

Sansa seemed to be enjoying herself, though, and he was glad for that. She and Arya had been stressed enough lately. It was nice that she could relax on her birthday.

Then her brothers showed up as a surprise, and Gendry knew he was in for it.

“Shit,” Arya whispered beside him when the oldest brother – he had to be the oldest, with the look he was giving Gendry – walked in.

“I think they’re deciding which part of me to eat first,” Gendry whispered back, mouth twitching when she smacked his side almost reflexively.

“Screw this. I’ll protect you,” she grinned at him and he couldn’t help but pull her closer to kiss her lightly, before he heard someone clear their throat expectantly.

Arya rolled her eyes and went to hug her brother, and then – to Gendry’s delight – returned to Gendry’s side, taking his hand. 

“Robb, this is my…ah, Gendry. Gendry, this is my older brother Robb.” 

Gendry held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Arya.” 

Robb took his hand, squeezing slightly harder than necessary before letting go. “I haven’t heard much about you.” 

“That’s because I haven’t talked to you in nearly a month,” Arya protested.

Then out of nowhere, Jon was next to him. “Really, be glad you weren’t around here. She won’t shut up about him.” 

Gendry’s mouth twitched. _I will not smile, I will not smile,_ he willed himself. He knew it wasn’t true, what Jon had said, but it was still funny. Arya was looking anywhere but him, though, and he felt so bad he spoke up again.

“It’s alright,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “My mum hears about Arya so much she reckons she could pick her out from a crowd, even though they haven’t met yet."

Robb’s face relaxed, if only slightly so. Then Sansa came over and tugged Robb away to meet her friends, and Arya relaxed next to him. Jon clapped him on the shoulder, grinning, and went to find Ygritte.

“So.” Gendry looked down at Arya. “About escaping…”

“Meet me out back in a few minutes.” She grinned and went after Sansa.

He made his way to the back, sitting on the steps until he felt her hand on his shoulder. “Ready to go?” 

He stood up. “Where to?”

“Somewhere with real food,” she replied. “I’m starving.”

“That still doesn’t narrow it down.” He laughed as she shoved him.

“Fine. I want pancakes.”

“Pancakes. At 8 o’clock at night.”

She crossed her arms. “Yes.” 

So they ended up at a diner, drinking hot chocolates with their plates full of pancakes (and bacon, and eggs). 

“Sorry about Robb,” Arya pushed her food around in the plate. “He’s usually not so bad. He’s just protective, I guess. Especially since he’s not really around much now.” 

Gendry nodded. “It’s alright, I get it.” 

She was silent for a moment, biting her lip, and he waited until she was ready to tell him what was on her mind.

“Robb wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t heard about you.” She sighed. “I don’t … I don’t talk about you much, but it’s only because I don’t see the need to broadcast my life to everyone.” She looked down. “It’s not because I don’t like you, though. Because I do. A lot. I just … didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.” 

He couldn’t help but smile. Arya was always surprising him.

He reached across the table and curled a finger under her chin until her eyes met his. “Don’t ever feel like you have to explain yourself to me. I know who you are, and I like you for it. A lot,” he added, repeating her words back. “Whatever this is, it’s between us. I prefer to keep it that way, too.” 

Then he grinned. “Although, I wasn’t lying. Mum does know far too much about you.”

Arya raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged. “She’s persistent. Not quite unlike some else I know.” He shook his fork at her and she smiled. 

“This was a good idea,” he mumbled in between bites.

“Told you so.” 

“You know, I think this is the first time we’ve actually gone out to dinner together,” he said wonderingly.

“Not my fault you’re so fond of grocery stores,” she replied. 

“I didn’t hear you complaining.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. 

She kicked him under the table, and he could only laugh harder.


	47. Headache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me plus headache minus Joe/Gendry = this

Gendry shoved his door open, not bothering to turn on the lights. He dropped his backpack and coat on the floor and collapsed face-first onto the bed, the coolness of the sheets providing some much-needed relief to his overheated and aching head.

He’d woken up with the headache, but had hoped to push through it with enough coffee and distraction. Instead, it got worse throughout the day and now he was skipping mechanics class and work at the garage. 

He had nearly drifted off to sleep when he heard his door open. In his dazed state, he wondered why the hell Jon was coming in – he was the only one with a spare key. The door shut quietly as another bag joined his on the floor with a soft sound, and he realized it wasn't Jon at all. 

The bed shifted slightly as she crawled in next to him, and cool fingers ran through his hair. He turned his face to the side slightly, blinking one eye open groggily to see a curtain of brown hair and worried grey eyes.

“Arya,” he sighed.

“Shh. Go to sleep,” she whispered back. Her nails continued raking through his hair, creating the perfect pressure points and making him sigh contentedly. He shifted closer to her, and she pulled his head into her lap, sitting back against the wall.

His arms encircled her waist and he was asleep within minutes, finally content.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Gendry awoke, his room was still dark. Arya’s hand was still resting on the base of his neck, playing absently with his short hair. He lifted his head to look up at her, eyes closed and earphones in. His movement caused her to look down, her mouth turning up in a smile when she saw he was awake.

“You’re here,” he said wonderingly, as she pulled the earbuds out.

“Of course I am. How are you feeling?”

He pressed his lips to her hand. “Better, I think. What time is it?”

“A little past six.”

“Wow.”

She nodded. “You were out cold.”

“It’s usually the only way to make it go away.” 

“You should take it easy for a while,” she said softly. “You do too much.”

“Lucky I have you to look after me.” He knew she could see his grin, even in the dark. He pulled himself up to sit next to her. “How did you get in here, anyway?”

“I took Jon’s spare key.”

“Ah.” He paused. “You know, you can probably just keep it now.” 

“Is that so?” Her voice was teasing.

“Yeah. If that’s okay with you.” He nudged her slightly.

“Okay.” She rested her chin on his shoulder, and despite the darkness he could make out all her features. “Seriously, please take a break.”

“You sound like my mum.”

“She’s a smart woman.”

He laughed. “She is.” 

“So will you listen to us?” 

He turned his head toward her so their noses were touching. “I’m taking a break now, aren’t I?

“Oh yes,” Arya replied dryly. “Because passing out for three hours is _such_ a break.” 

He grinned, reaching for her hand in the dark and bringing it to his lips. “I’ll take it easy. Promise.” He nuzzled her neck, feeling her giggle as his stubble tickled her. He placed kisses behind her ear, pausing to ask cheekily, “Does this count as a break?”

“It does if you don’t stop.” Her voice was steady, but her hands were already curling into his shirt. 

He chuckled and trailed kisses down her jaw until he met her lips. Her arms wound around his neck and pulled him on top of her again, sinking down into the pillows.


	48. Frustrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. Jon keeps interrupting Gendry and Arya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oohhh god, the fluff.

Gendry’s hand wandered along her leg, making her squirm. She shot him what she hoped was a reprimanding look before trying to concentrate on the page in front of her. She’d read the same line nearly four times now.

He was over at her place for once, and she was happy to have him. What she wasn’t happy about was Jon’s constant excuses to come into her room. Even Sansa had popped in at one point, though Arya thought her reason might have actually been feasible.

They were supposed to be studying, but Gendry was feeling playful today, and she couldn’t help but give in to him. They’d both been so busy lately it had been hard to find time together where they weren’t constantly worried about something else. 

She loved his playful moods. She’d only gotten glimpses of them before they started going out, and now that she had she felt very lucky to see him this way. It was a side most people never saw.

His hand trailed up her arm again and then poked her in the side, and she swatted him, trying and failing to hold in her laughter.

He grinned and tossed his book aside (the liar, as if he was actually reading), placing soft kisses along her jaw. She gave up and put her arms around his neck, turning her face to kiss him properly and pulling him on top of her. His tongue sought entrance immediately and she opened up to him, pressing closer, entirely aware of how much she liked the feeling of his body on top of hers.

She was about to hitch her leg around his and flip them when she heard the doorknob. She sat up, and he pulled off her so fast he rolled off the bed, hitting the floor with a thump. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as Jon peeked in.

“What now?” She nearly growled at him.

“I’m ordering food. Would you guys like anything?” He asked, all too innocent.

“Pizza. Extra mushrooms,” she muttered.

“And peppers,” Gendry called from the floor.

“Comfortable down there, are we?” Jon looked over amusedly.

“Oh yes,” Gendry drawled. “Don’t you know? This is where I get my best work done.”

“Is that all?” Arya asked impatiently, hearing Gendry’s barely concealed laugh.

Jon nodded and pulled the door shut again. 

She threw herself back onto the pillows with a huff. “Are you okay?” She asked Gendry.

“A bit bruised, but I’ll live. He’s determined, that one.” 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s acting like Robb.” 

Gendry pulled himself back on the bed, lying next to her. “Maybe he’s just not sure what to do. This might be the first time we’ve been in here when he’s not in class.”

“Not my fault,” Arya answered sullenly, aware that she sounded like a child who didn’t get candy.

“Does the door lock?”

She sighed. “Yeah, but we don’t have the money to pay for the repairs we’ll need after he breaks it down. Idiot.” 

Gendry laughed, putting an arm around her and pulling her close again. “You’re cute when you’re angry.” He received a half-hearted hit to his torso in response. “Hey, at least we’re getting food out of it.”

“I guess. Your cooking’s still better,”she mumbled into his chest.

“Wow, did Arya Stark just compliment me?”

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.” 

She pushed him flat on the bed, straddling him and kissing him soundly. His hands wound into her hair, kissing her back just as eagerly, and she was glad she wasn’t the only one frustrated. When one hand wandered to the strip of skin between her shirt and jeans, she bit down on his lip. He pushed up, sitting with her in his lap as his hand traced patterns on her skin.

A knock sounded at her door and she reluctantly pulled her lips from his. “I’m going to kill him.” 

Gendry pressed a kiss to her shoulder and gently lifted her off him.

“What, Jon?” she yelled.

“Food’s here!”

She groaned and laid her head against Gendry’s shoulder. “Sorry.” 

He hugged her. “Don’t be silly. You don’t need to apologize.” He winked at her as they climbed off the bed. “There’s plenty of time after dinner.” 

She grinned and reached for his hand as they went downstairs. 

As they went for the pizza, she noticed Sansa’s craft scissors laying nearby and got an idea. She held them up carefully, asking, “Sansa, how sharp are these?”

“Quite sharp. They cut through my fabric real well.” Sansa looked at her curiously. “Why?”

She shrugged casually. “Just curious if they’d go through hair easily, too.”

Jon’s head snapped up, his gaze drifting between Arya and the scissors. She arched an eyebrow, daring him to comment. He gulped but didn’t say a word, going back to his pizza, and Ygritte howled on the couch next to him.

Arya smiled, satisfied, and was grabbing her own slice of pizza when she felt Gendry’s arms go around her.

“You are officially my favorite person ever,” he whispered into her ear.


	49. Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. Arya finds a stranger in Gendry's apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea came from the CW tv series One Tree Hill, episode 1x11. It's a slightly different take on it.

Arya frowned, seeing Gendry’s door slightly ajar. He never left his door open. She paused outside, trying to peer through the small crack, then pulling back quickly when someone who was most definitely _not_ Gendry stepped into view.

She looked around for something , anything to use. All she had on her was her umbrella and backpack.

 _Great_. That’ll strike fear into his heart, Arya thought.

Peeking in again, she saw the man still at the counter. He was middle-aged, judging by the lack of hair on his head. Then she spied something else.

Just next to the doorframe rested Gendry’s massive umbrella, the one she always teased him about. (He hated the rain). It was nearly the same height as her, but large enough to cause some damage.

She shoved the door open, grabbing the umbrella and holding it in front of her, just like she did in fencing. Granted, the thing was heavier than expected.

The man turned, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

“Who are you?” She demanded. 

“Well, I’m _not_ the one breaking and entering,” he replied.

“The door was open. Where’s Gendry?”

At that moment, she heard the water run in the bathroom. Her heart sank. _He’s not alone?_ Before she could think what to do, the sink turned off and the door opened. Gendry emerged, wiping his face with a towel.

“Arya?” He stopped and tossed the towel on the counter, taking in the scene before him. “What’s going on?”

“Your young lady here was ready to beat me before you showed up,” the older man answered him, grinning.

Arya got a sinking feeling in her stomach as she saw Gendry’s mouth twitch, and she lowered the umbrella in embarrassment. 

“I didn’t see you and your door was open…you never leave your door open, so I just thought…” she trailed off.

He nodded in understanding, still fighting back a grin. “Arya, this is my foster dad Tobho Mott.”

_Balls_. 

Gendry looked at her, laughter in his blue eyes. “Tobho, this is Arya.” 

Tobho reached out a hand and Arya shook it, knowing her face was red. “It’s very nice to finally meet you,” he said kindly.

“Now that’s not true,” she mumbled, and he chuckled. “I’m sorry about this.”

“Please don’t apologize. It’s nice to see someone looking after him, for a change.” She could see he meant it, and she nodded.

“We were about to get some food,” Gendry told her. “Want to join?”

She started to shake her head, ready to beg off, when Tobho interjected. “The only acceptable answer is yes.”

She nearly narrowed her eyes at him before realizing it hadn’t been Gendry who spoke. She couldn’t help but grin, despite her embarrassment. “Now I see the resemblance.” 

Tobho let out a hearty laugh and grinned at Gendry. “I like her.”

Gendry smiled at her adoringly. “Me too.”


	50. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future-fic, post ADwD. TV show spoilers through 3x07 (and 3x08 promos).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I hit 50 chapters! What! So awesome, and a big thank-you to everyone who's reading these.  
> 2\. This is based on some icky promos for this week. Ugh. SPOILERS in case you didn’t see the promos or haven’t been on the Tumblr tags (as I have, clearly). And um, it's not fluff. *cue gasp* okay, well not entirely.  
> 3\. I thought I was prepared for this week and then came across one particular Tumblr screencap/gif that made my stomach roll, so this happened in response. UGH.  
> Seriously, there aren't enough words for my Melisandre hate (I refuse to use a ship name). Okay that's it.

She hadn’t noticed it at first, so occupied was she with her own mixed up feelings. But in the moments she wasn’t constantly arguing with herself, she began to realize she wasn’t the only one who had changed.

Gendry was different now, too.

He was still quiet and strong and undeniably reliable. But under that he now seemed to carry a quiet rage. He also did his absolute best to avoid contact with everyone, including her. If she brushed against him when they walked, he’d slowly but surely put some distance between them. Their hands never touched. His movements were all very careful, but purposefully separating. 

She didn’t like it.

Whenever she thought about bringing it up, though, the words would stick in her throat and she’d find a distraction. They shared meals and a fire every night, and he’d even given her his cloak on the chillier nights, but their conversation was stilted. Neither was ready to talk about the past.

But one night, she couldn’t leave it alone any longer.

They’d been finishing dinner in silence, wrapped in their own thoughts, when she noticed the soot on his neck. She inched closer and reached up to brush at it, intending to tease him for taking the forge everywhere he went. 

The moment her hand touched his skin, he flinched and pulled away quicker than she’d known he could move. He continued to move back, eyes clouded over, until he was pressed up against a tree. Then his face cleared, realizing it was only her, and he cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Her hand was still hanging in the air, where he’d been not a moment before, in astonishment. She could see him closing up and pressed forward, sitting directly in front of him, but careful not to touch.

“Gendry.” She waited until his blue eyes were on her. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” he replied gruffly, looking away.

“Liar.”

His eyes snapped back to hers. “What do you care?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Stupid. I’m your _friend_ , that’s why I bloody care,” she snapped at him.

His face softened. “You were always my friend, weren’t you? The only one who didn’t want to use me.” He said the last part quietly, almost to himself.

She wanted to reach out, to take his hand, _something,_ but she remained where she was, not wanting to spook him again.

He let out a ragged sigh, his head leaning back against the tree with a thunk, eyes upon the night sky.

“The Red Priestess,” he began, and oh, Arya didn’t like where this was headed, not one bit. “She informed me ‘there is great power in a king’s blood.’” Now his eyes were back on her, saddened. “I finally know why the Gold Cloaks were after me.” 

Arya stared back at him, unbelieving.

“I know,” he laughed bitterly. “I couldn’t believe it either. Wouldn’t have mattered anyways, though. She really was just after the blood, though she had a funny way of showing it.” His voice said it was anything but funny. 

“She…” he hesitated, unsure of whether to go on, and this time Arya did reach out, taking his hand in hers tightly. He gazed at their joined hands for a moment and then squeezed back slightly. “She made me believe she wanted me, for a few moments. Got me right where she wanted and then carved into me. Then came the leeches.” He stopped abruptly, closing his eyes.

Arya sat frozen, horrified at what she was hearing. After a minute, he continued slowly, not opening his eyes. “I wanted answers, and she had them, and for a moment I believed someone was on my side.” Finally, his gaze settled on her again, blue eyes clear with understanding. “I couldn’t see what was right in front of me,” he said, and Arya didn’t know if he meant her or the witch or both.

“Let me see,” she said instead.

His brows knitted in confusion for a moment before his eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Leave it alone.”

“No,” she insisted, leaning forward. “Gendry, _let me see_.”

Blue eyes met grey for a long moment; blue looked away first. Gendry unlaced his coat and yanked up his shirt, revealing the jagged scar that ran down his torso and disappeared under his waistline. Arya couldn’t help the breath that escaped her.

“Where was the maester?” 

He let his shirt drop and shook his head again. “He was there…after. But I didn’t let him heal it properly. To remind myself what happens when you trust the wrong people.” 

He let out a breath. “I’m sorry, Arya.”

She swallowed thickly. “For what?”

“If I’d listened to you, we would’ve been long gone before she found the Brotherhood. And you don’t end up alone or with The Hound.”

“Don’t do that,” she said sternly. "What happened, happened. It’s no use to live in the past.”

He looked at her strangely. “When did you get to be so wise?”

“I’ve always been smarter than you, stupid,” she replied, but her voice caught. She crawled next to him, shifting closer until he had to lift his arm, and she rested her head on his chest.

“I’m not alone anymore,” she whispered. “And neither are you.”

His arm encircled her waist, squeezing her closer, as he rested his head atop hers. 

Silently, she added another name to her list. She was done with others using her friends and family as they pleased. One day soon, they’d learn.


	51. Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. (mentions of Gendry being afraid of storms, kind of a reference to Chapter 14, Storm, where that was first pointed out).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more cavity-inducing fluff.

A bolt of lightning lit up the sky again, and Arya braced for the boom of thunder that was sure to follow. The rain had been pouring steadily all day, but within the past hour it had turned into a full-on storm. Their power had gone out twenty minutes ago, so she, Jon, and Sansa were currently huddled in the living room with flashlights and a few candles that Sansa had found and lit. 

As the thunder sounded outside, Arya winced, thinking of Gendry. Her phone had lost signal a while ago, and she hadn't been able to reach him since.

“Maybe I should just go check on him. I can stay there until it’s over,” she tried reasoning once more with her sister.

“Are you mad? There’s no way I’m letting you go out in _that_.” Sansa crossed her arms. “He’s a big boy, Arya. He’ll be fine.”

 _Gendry hates storms._ Arya nearly spoke the words, then thought better of it. She glanced at Jon and saw the same unspoken worry in his face.

He turned to Sansa. “Why don’t we go upstairs and try to find that board game again? I’m sure I saw it somewhere just the other day.”

Sansa eyed them both warily, but Jon continued. “Come on, you said it yourself. Where is she going to go?” He turned to Arya. “You know the closet under the stairs? I think I saw some games stacked in there. You check there and we’ll take the upstairs.”

Sansa nodded and rose from the couch, turning towards the stairs. As soon as her back was turned, Jon looked at Arya.

 _Keys,_ he mouthed.

 _Where?_ she mouthed back.

He jerked his head towards the closet. She looked at him for a moment, puzzled, and then it hit her – the coats! The keys would be in his jacket pocket. She smiled at him gratefully.

 _Thank you_.

He grinned and went to find Sansa. Arya pulled on her coat and grabbed her umbrella, digging into Jon’s coat pocket and fishing out his car keys.

She slipped out the back door quietly, hoping Sansa wouldn’t kill her for this. She got her umbrella out in time to avoid being fully drenched, though her jeans were already soaked from the bottom. Then she was starting the car and headed to Gendry’s, and she didn’t care.

A little while later, she parked down the block and sprinted to his building door. Some blessed soul was entering as well, and let her in. She took the stairs to his apartment and knocked. 

There was no answer.

“Gendry?” She called through the door.

“Arya?” She heard shuffling, and then the door swung open to reveal a dark apartment, lit by a single flashlight on the dresser. 

“Hey.” She smiled at him.

“Gods, you’re soaked. Are you alright?” He pulled her inside, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment before reappearing with a towel. 

“You lost power too?” She asked as he tossed her his hoodie as well. 

“Yeah, a while back.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” She paused in the middle of toweling her hair off. “You don’t like storms.” He looked at her strangely, his eyes unreadable in the dark, and she shifted nervously. “I would have called, but my phone had no signal and-” She squeaked as he swept her up in a hug, her feet leaving the ground. She hung on to him, one hand buried in his thick black hair.

He put her down gently, pulling back to cup her face and kiss her warmly. “Thank you.” 

The thunder sounded again, and he closed his eyes, dropping his forehead to hers. She hugged him close, her fingers tracing up and down his spine, willing his muscles to relax. After a minute, she pulled back to see his face, her fingers trailing along his jaw to his lips until his eyes finally opened, and his hand came up to grasp hers. 

He let out a shaky laugh. “I thought I was supposed to be _your_ knight in shining armor,” he said weakly. 

“Shut up,” Arya ordered. “Who says I need a knight?” 

“You’re right.” His voice still shook slightly. “You’d be a knight yourself. My own lady night.”

“You’re an idiot. I’m no lady.” 

He laughed, stronger this time, pulling her onto the bed with him. “You’re _my_ lady,” he said softly, and gods, she liked the sound of that. Not that she'd ever tell him. 


	52. Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future-fic. Arya vs. the Red Bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RAGE. Just pure rage. my response to 3x08 because I can't go to sleep otherwise. I have no idea how this woman can actually die but I can pretend this is true somewhere, right?
> 
> Also, I guess I should put a warning that this has some violent (well, for me) and mildly sexual content (but if you watch GoT at all this is fodder by comparison).

Arya fumed alone in the tent. _She_ was here. Of course she was. She couldn’t fucking leave well enough alone. After everything she’d done, she was still alive and breathing and _smiling_ , the bitch. Well, Arya meant to change that.

They’d been with Jon’s camp for nearly a week now, marching closer to Winterfell each day. She and Gendry had traveled from Braavos back across the Narrow Sea, spending endless days and nights on the road simply going North, until they found Jon and his men.

In her joy, Arya had let her guard down. She knew better than to do that, but this was Jon, and for a moment nothing else mattered.

Then she felt it, as the group’s attention suddenly shifted, and those that weren’t busy staring quickly found something else to do. The Red Priestess emerged from her tent, coming to stand quietly behind Jon. Arya’s hair stood up and she moved back, her hand finding Gendry’s immediately. His grip was so tight it would have hurt if Arya hadn’t been squeezing back with the same force. 

He’d told her what had happened. Not at first, of course. But nights on the road by a shared fire had slowly pulled out each of their secrets. Reluctantly, they had bared themselves to one another, each expecting the other to turn away. 

Instead, both were met with surprising acceptance and willingness to move on, so they had. Arya couldn’t point to a moment when they’d changed from friends to lovers. It had just felt right, like a natural extension of their bond, and each had known it to be true. 

As she gripped Gendry’s hand, she stared at the woman, the _witch_ , who had caused him so much pain, and she knew her list would be short one name very soon.

She’d yelled and pleaded with Jon to send her off, but he had refused, insisting he needed her help, her precious visions, to take Winterfell. Arya hated that argument. Her visions were horseshit, as was her god. Jon needed good men, like Gendry.

As if called by her thoughts, he stepped into the tent they shared. She nearly smiled at the sight of his large form having to duck every time he exited or entered. He came and sat next to her wearily, simply holding her hand in his as she tucked her head against his shoulder.

After a while, she felt his hand under her chin, turning her face up to his. He kissed her softly at first, then becoming urgent, desperate. She returned his kiss with the same fervor, pulling him down on top of her and leaving marks on his skin anywhere, everywhere, to remind them both that he was hers, hers, hers. Only hers.

Their coupling wasn’t sweet or slow. His hands dug into her waist hard, leaving impressions of his fingers, and she bit his shoulder, his ear, his lip. Their hips came together in barely controlled rhythm, each keeping the other from crashing out of control until they couldn’t hold on any longer and let go.

That night, as always, they ate supper together with some of the other men who also disliked the priestess. They all went out of their way to avoid her, and through that had formed a strange but unified front.

Jon surprised them by showing up without the witch in tow, informing them they would be attacking Winterfell at dawn. Arya nodded. She’d expected as much, being as close as they were. And it fit right with the plan she’d been forming all week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they headed out the next morning, Gendry took her arm and pulled her back from the others.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, squinting up at him.

“Please be careful,” he said softly.

“Right back at you,” she grinned, but he shook his head.

“I know you’re up to something.” He put a hand over her mouth as she tried to reply. “Whatever it is, just promise me you’ll be careful.” 

She pulled her hand from his mouth, placing a kiss to his palm. “Promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The battle raged on, both sides fighting furiously. Jon was winning, though. Arya could tell that much amongst all the blood and yelling. There were far more strangers than friends lying dead on the ground. 

The Red Priestess wasn’t hard to spot either, cloaked in her crimson gown, her ruby glowing at her throat as she chanted. 

Arya’s eyes narrowed and she slipped further away from Jon and Gendry, earning a few extra bruises on her way to the witch. She snagged a dagger from a dead man and drew up behind her, silent as a shadow, checking quickly that the others were still occupied. She saw Gendry’s broad form turning more frantically with each swing, looking for her, and made her move.

The tip of her dagger sliced through the witch’s necklace, the ruby falling deep into the snow. As the priestess turned in surprise, Arya smashed the hilt of her dagger against her face. She dropped to the ground in pain, and Arya dragged her out of sight behind a tree.

“I knew there was a darkness in you.” The woman had the audacity to sound smug, and Arya lost her temper. She flung aside the dagger, settling for punches with her bare hands until her knuckles were as red as the witch’s coat. 

She picked up her stolen dagger, breathing heavily. “This is what I think of your precious god of light,” she snarled, and drove the dagger into her chest, watching until the life left her eyes. 

Footsteps nearby launched her to her feet, and she dove back into the battle without a glance back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the day was done, hundreds of soldiers lay dead on the field in front of Winterfell. Arya stood amongst the wounded, doing her best to direct the healers where needed. One healer had stopped to examine Arya herself when a hush spread over the field.

Soldiers carried the witch’s body on a cot, Jon walking alongside silently. Arya’s eyes found Gendry standing stiffly nearby, arms bandaged. As they passed, his eyes lingered on her beaten face.

Jon glanced at him. “It wasn’t one of ours. The dagger,” he clarified. “One of Baelish’s men must have got to her.”

Gendry only nodded, but his blue eyes were on Arya as soon as Jon’s back was turned. He came over slowly, a slight limp in his left leg. 

“I can take over,” he assured the healer quietly, and took her spot on the tree stump. Neither of them spoke a word as he gently cleaned her bloody knuckles. Quietly, he bandaged her hands, careful to cover the open wounds. 

When he was done, he brushed his lips over her knuckles softly, each touch full of thanks he couldn’t voice.


	53. Leftovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU FLUFFINESS :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seriously, so much fluff. back to the land of denial I flee :D

Arya knocked on his door, balancing the tray against her hip with her other hand. The door opened and Gendry smiled down at her, blue eyes warm.

Then his nose twitched and she bit back a laugh. “Do I smell pasta?”

“Leftovers,” she nodded at the tray in her hand. He reached out and took it from her, pulling her inside. 

“This smells great,” he grinned at her, pulling back the lid. “Wow. That’s a lot of leftovers.” 

“Jon and Sansa may have overestimated a bit." The lie flew out easily. 

He chuckled. “Thanks for thinking of me.” 

She nodded and placed the bag of soda on the counter, dropping her backpack by his bed. She stepped on a chair to reach his cupboard, handing him bowls as he grinned at her perch.

She twisted her fingers nervously as he warmed up the food, trying to figure out if the pasta looked overcooked or if the sauce smelled weird. 

_I have_ got _to get a grip_.

She pulled out his dinner tray and they sat down to eat in their usual spot, her on his bed and him in his desk chair.

Gendry took a bite and closed his eyes. “This is delicious,” he mumbled. 

She smiled, absurdly pleased, before realizing she shouldn’t look so happy about something “Jon” had cooked. Still, she couldn’t help the small smile that lingered on her face throughout dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, she was studying on her bed when a knock sounded at her door.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me,” Gendry called back.

“Oh. Come in.” She scrambled to make room, pushing her papers to one side as he entered her room, shutting the door behind him again.

He grinned at the mess. “Research?”

“I hate term papers,” she muttered, and he chuckled, coming over to kiss her softly before settling next to her.

“This is a surprise.” She bumped his shoulder to let him know she didn’t mind.

“Yeah, I was out with Jon earlier and he mentioned you were stuck here by yourself.” He shrugged. “I thought maybe you might want some company.” He grinned. “Or a distraction.” 

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Behave.”

He held up his hands mischievously. “As you wish.” 

She shook her head and returned to her papers as he reached in his bag for his laptop. 

“Jon mentioned something else,” he said casually, and she paused for a second.

“Oh?”

“I was thanking him for the leftovers that you brought me the other day. You know, the pasta,” he said pointedly. She could feel his eyes on her but didn’t look up. “And he was so confused, he looked at me like I was mad." 

Arya bit her lip but didn't reply.

"Then he informed me that _apparently_ ,” he drawled, “neither he nor Sansa were even home Tuesday.”

Arya kept looking at her paper, her cheeks burning. She knew he was smiling, and she wished the bed would open up and swallow her whole until she could pull herself together.

“I think I hear someone downstairs.” She made to get off the bed.

Strong arms pulled her back against him, and he rested his chin on her shoulder, his breath warm on her neck as he laughed. 

“You made me dinner,” he whispered.

She nodded.

“But you don’t cook,” he teased. She stuck out her tongue even though she wasn’t looking at him and felt him grin. 

He pressed a soft kiss behind her ear. “Thank you,” he said even more quietly, and she heard the genuine gratitude in his voice. She could tell then that he knew her far too well.

She willed her voice to be steady. “Don’t get too used to it.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”


	54. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. Arya and Gendry learn more about each other.

“Favorite color.” 

“Brown,” he stated.

“Brown?” She wrinkled her nose. 

“Yes, brown,” he replied, poking her gently. “It’s warm and comforting. Reminds me of home.” Her eyes softened in understanding, and he asked, “What about you?”

“Blue.” The answer surprised her at first, too, and she did her best not to stare into his very blue eyes as she scrambled for a reason. “Reminds me of the sea.” 

“Mhmm.” His voice said he didn’t believe her one bit.

“Shut up,” she said, and he laughed, pulling her head down for a kiss. 

It was a beautiful day, one of the nicest days they’d had in some time. Gendry had convinced her to come outside and take a break from homework. She had to admit it felt good. They’d found a spot under a large oak tree, Arya sitting back against the trunk with Gendry’s head in her lap, his long body stretched out in the shade.

“Biggest turn on?” He grinned at her.

“A challenge.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t like pushovers. You?”

“Honesty.” He paused. “I don’t like games.” She smiled softly, remembering having said those very words to him in one of their first meetings. 

“Biggest pet peeve,” she decided, her hands playing with his hair absently.

“Condescension.” He didn’t even need to think about it. “Yours?”

“Bullies.” He took her other hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.

“Biggest fear?” 

She bit her lip. “Losing my family,” she said softly, and he knew she was thinking of her parents. Her eyes met his. “Yours?”

“Losing myself. Not being me anymore.” She nodded. That was a very Gendry answer. He was loyal and true, and to lose the things he stood for would mean losing his way.

“Favorite season?” She asked.

“Fall. Not early, when it’s still summer-like, but when its cooler and you can just be outside without your fingers freezing off or melting … What?” He asked at her look.

“Nothing, I just always guessed you’d like summer. It’s always so bloody hot in the garage.” 

He grinned. “True. But it’s work, so I guess I don’t notice as much. I’m just used to it, like you are with the cold.”

She smiled. “Have you ever seen a snowfall?”

“Not that I can remember,” he replied wistfully. “Mum always says there was one big snow the year I was born and after that we didn’t have a white Christmas again.”

“I can’t imagine Christmas without snow.”

“Well maybe all you Starks here will bring us some of that winter luck.” He kissed her hand lightly.

“I hope so,” she replied. “Best trip?”

“Storm’s End,” he replied almost instantly. “Tobho took mum and me there one summer and it was the most fun I’d had in ages. I still remember the massive waves crashing onto the shore.” He grinned up at her. “Tobho threw me in several times.”

She laughed. It was all too easy to imagine a young, happy Gendry before his mum’s accident. “Your best trip?” He asked her.

“We went to this ski resort further North,” she remembered fondly. “The slopes were huge. Jon and I took so many turns just so we could ride the lifts all the way up for the view.”

“Can you still ski?”

“God no,” she laughed again. “We only went the one time, and mum freaked because I was so bruised by the end.”

Gendry’s mouth curved up at the thought of a young, wild Arya causing chaos on the mountain. 

He thought for a minute before deciding on his next question. “What do you notice first in a person?”

She was silent for a little while. “Their eyes,” she said finally. “It’s really hard to hide the truth there.”

She seemed lost in thought, so he let her be. “What about you?” She eventually asked.

“Their posture, and how they carry themselves.” 

“What did you think of me?” She tried to keep her voice teasing, but found she really wanted to know. 

“You were strong, quietly so,” he said thoughtfully. “You weren’t looking for anyone to save you. Whatever problems you had, you’d deal with them on your terms.”

She studied him, taken off guard by how much he’d noticed on their first meeting. He came out of the memory and smiled up at her. “What?”

“Nothing.” When he raised an eyebrow, she sighed exaggeratedly. “It’s just, that was scarily accurate.” 

His smile grew, and she knew he was pleased. Then his face got serious and he asked, “What did you think of me?”

She chewed at her lip. “You were tired. Not physically…” she searched for the words. “It was more like you were weary. Of everyone and everything.”

She glanced down to see him now studying her, and she grinned. “I’m guessing I was right?”

“Spot on.” He paused. “I wasn’t in the best shape when we met.”

“That makes two of us.” 

They sat in silence for some time, content with their own thoughts.

Then Gendry grinned wickedly at her. “Most ticklish spot?”

“Hell if I’m telling you,” she replied archly, and he ran his hands over the soles of her bare feet in response, eliciting a squeal from her. He laughed and pulled her down suddenly, twisting so his body pressed warmly down on hers. 

“Guess I’ll just have to find out on my own then,” he smirked, running his fingers along her sides. Her breathless laughter echoed in the air as she squirmed helplessly, and he went home with a bruise forming over his hip where she kneed him, but it was worth it.


	55. Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ADwD, future-fic. Another reunion scenario.

Someone was following her. She’d been wandering all over Braavos for two days now, trying to shake them and failing. The stupid thing was, she knew exactly who was there.

He stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd, with his black hair and broad shoulders towering over most. And yet, she hadn’t confronted him, just kept running.

Every time she thought she’d lost him, he’d turn up somewhere else. He wasn’t there to hurt her, of that she was certain. He made no move to get closer, just stayed within reach.

It was infuriating. 

That evening, she lost all patience when she saw him in a shop window and turned sharply, taking corners quickly in this city she’d come to know so well. She waited around one bend, hearing him before she saw him. The oaf. How did he expect to tail someone, moving so loudly? 

The thought occurred to her then, that he might _want_ her to know he was following. 

But she didn’t have time to dwell on what that meant, because he rounded the corner at that moment and her body sprung into action. Her arm shot out, catching him in the jaw, and she rammed an elbow into his side while he was still bent over, using her momentum to propel them both to the ground.

Her dagger was out and resting on his throat as she pinned him to the ground, and he held his hands up carefully, palms out and free of any weapon.

“What are you doing?” He glared up at her, and she fought the urge to laugh at his irritation.

“I’m the one with the knife, so I’ll ask the questions,” she hissed back at him. “Why were you following me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Would I be asking if it were?” She pressed the dagger into his neck. “Why?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“You had several chances. Why wait two whole days?”

“I needed to make sure it was you.”

She tilted her head, examining him. “Exactly who do you think I am?”

His brows knitted in confusion, blue eyes concerned. “What’s your name?” He asked quietly.

“There you go again with the questions.” She tapped her knife against his throat. “Didn’t I warn you already? I’ll be the one doing the asking.”

His gaze turned hard. “Very well, then. Ask away.”

“Who do you think I am?”

“Arya Stark.”

Her blood ran cold, and she stared down at him. His face was set in a challenge, daring her to prove him wrong. She shifted against him, needing to separate herself from the feelings he was creating in her. 

He swallowed, eyes darting down her body briefly, and suddenly she knew what to do. Feeling his length hard against her, she grinned wickedly. “Ever been tied up by a woman before?”

“Yes,” he spit out.

She raised an eyebrow. “Did you like it?”

“Fuck no.” 

“Really?” She laughed. “That’s not the answer most men would give.”

He raised his head up so his mouth was inches from hers. “I’m not most men,” he retorted, his blue eyes wandering her face before adding, “M’lady.” 

She started back, and he took advantage of her momentary surprise to twist her arm, making her release the knife, and flipped them easily, reversing their positions. Now he was using his full strength, and Arya realized belatedly that she hadn’t really pinned him earlier. He’d just let her.

Now she was lying under him, and he had her arms pinned above her head (with just one hand, annoyingly). He braced himself on his other hand, hovering over her.

“Still don’t remember me? I’m disappointed, m’lady.” 

“Stop calling me that,” she gritted out.

“Why?” 

“That’s not my name.”

“What is your name, then?”

“Cat.”

“Liar.”

She struggled, trying to get a knee up, but he only pressed down harder, and the weight of his body on hers was oddly distracting. 

“Arya.” Her eyes snapped to his without her permission. “It’s me.”

She knew who he was. But acknowledging it would mean taking back her name and facing her ghosts, and she wasn’t ready yet.

He studied her face, and she saw the moment he realized he wouldn’t win this argument. _Not today_ , she tried to tell him silently.

“Don’t stab me,” he warned, and pulled off her, releasing her arms.

She sat up slowly, rubbing her wrists. He handed back her dagger hilt first, and she took it, slipping it back up her sleeve into its sheath. 

“I work at the forge now. Down by the docks.” His blue eyes were trained steadily on her. “I won’t be following you now. Not until you want me to.” 

He reached out as if to touch her face, then thought better of it and stood up abruptly, walking away without a glance back. 

She stood there for some time, collecting herself before slipping back out into the city. He was true to his word – she didn’t see him the rest of the day or the days after. 

When she did finally head to the docks, she saw the forge he had mentioned, the one she passed nearly every day. She heard the steady ring of hammer on steel and nearly smiled before catching herself. 

Another day, she crouched in the back, peering in through the window and seeing his unmistakably large form bent over the anvil, beating away at the steel. 

He had been telling the truth. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One evening, she did stop inside, hovering in the back doorway with her package. He was the only one there, hammering away at the steel. She watched the muscles in his shoulders, noting he’d gotten even stronger than she’d thought.

He was wiping his brow and reaching for the pail of water behind him when he noticed her.

She held up the bundle in her arms. “Can you fix this?”

“What is it?” 

“Needle.” She didn’t go into it further. 

He motioned to the crate next to him, and she laid down the bundle, opening the cloth to reveal her sword, snapped clean in two. He took a long look at it, then disappeared in the back.

Just as she was thinking he’d left, he was back, his face unreadable. “When do you need it by?”

“Soon.”

“Tonight?”

She shook her head.

“I need better steel. I should be able to get some in a day or so, when the ships come in. I can fix it then.” 

She nodded, the thanks stuck in her throat, so she stuck out her hand.

He looked at her, an amused look on his face, before reaching out his hand to clasp hers briefly. Then she left without a word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She stopped back a few nights later, the cakes warm in her bag. She didn’t know what had possessed her to buy them, but she had. When she came in the back, nobody was in sight, although the fire was still going. She saw Needle laid out on the anvil, still broken, and walked over.

“Careful.” His voice sounded out in warning behind her as she reached out to the sword. “It’s hot,” he said, coming over to her. “We got the steel today. I was just about to start working on it.” 

She nodded and sat cross-legged on the bench across from him. Surprise crossed his face before he turned to the anvil, but she didn’t miss the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

She stayed as he got to work. He was careful, but just as stubborn as the steel in front of him. It would bend before he did, she thought.

Sometime later, she remembered the lemon cakes in her bag. She grimaced, realizing they were probably cold by now. Still, she took one out, placing it near him and then returning to her perch. When he stopped to take a break, he saw the cake and raised an eyebrow at her.

“It’s not fresh,” she said, taking a bite of hers. “Still good, though.” 

His mouth turned up in a half-smile. “Thanks.”

He finished her sword that night. When she lifted it, testing the weight, she found it even more to her liking than before. He wrapped it carefully in the same cloth and returned it to her. 

“Thank you,” she told him gratefully. 

“You’re welcome.” 

She turned to go, and was out the front door before she realized he hadn’t moved. She turned to see him watching her.

“Well?” She put a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Are you coming or not, stupid?”

His blue eyes lit up and his face split into a smile. He held up a hand, motioning for her to wait a moment. He returned from the back with his own bag, grabbing his hammer and coat and coming to stand in front of her, grin firmly in place. 

This time when she turned to go, Gendry followed.


	56. Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ADwD, future-fic.

They sat in the godswood, passing a wineskin back and forth under the large weirwood tree. As she took a sip, Arya still couldn’t believe how much had happened recently. 

They’d taken back Winterfell and were rebuilding it piece by piece, day by day. Her family, who she thought she’d never see again, had also somehow found their way back to each other. They were incomplete, of course, without Robb and her parents. But their spirits lived on in Winterfell, and she and the rest of her siblings intended to keep it that way.

She passed the wineskin back to Gendry, noticing how peaceful he looked also. 

He noticed her gaze and returned it with a questioning one of his own.

She shrugged. “Just thinking.” 

“I can tell.” A corner of his mouth lifted. 

She rolled her eyes, then said, “I never really asked, how do you like Winterfell?”

He smiled. “I like it very much. These are good people.”

Arya nodded, taking the wineskin back from him. She took another drink, then added, “It suits you. The North.”

“Are you surprised?” He asked. 

“No. Are you?”

“A little. I guess I just never thought I’d find somewhere I could call home.”

She handed the wine back to him. “And now?”

He studied the flask in his hands for a moment. “I guess…I don’t think home will ever be a physical place for me. More like a feeling…like I’m right where I should be. That I belong.” He took a swig and passed it back.

She studied him, then asked carefully, “So where does that feeling tell you you belong?”

His head turned towards her, his blue eyes amused. “Do you really not know?”

When she didn’t reply, he moved closer until the tips of their noses brushed. “With you, silly.” He leaned back, taking the wineskin from her again. 

She was sure he could hear her heart pounding in the quiet night, but she had to ask. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” 

“Because if there’s any chance that you don’t-“ 

“Arya-“

“Then you should just-“ His large hand covered her mouth gently but firmly, cutting her off. 

“I’m not going anywhere unless you are,” he told her. “Like it or not, you’re stuck with me.” He pulled his hand away and settled back against the tree again, looking out into the godswood.

Arya stared at him for a moment longer, then turned away, biting her lip to keep from smiling. “I suppose I can live with that,” she huffed.

She jumped when his arm went around her shoulder, pulling her close against his warm body. “Good,” he mumbled into her hair, and she allowed herself a grin against his shoulder.


	57. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. Inspired by a scene from the book Blood Brothers, just re-imagined with Arya and Gendry instead. I did borrow the last line, though, because it's just too good, so it is in italics for that reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't really sexytime, more of a tease, but if the age thing bothers anyone, in my modern verse they're only two years apart.

Arya woke with a start as something fell on her naked body in the dark. Her fists were already out and punching by the time the whispers of “sorry” hit her ears, too late to stop her knuckles from colliding with his head.

“Ow! What the hell!” Arya pulled her hands back as sharp pain flooded her fingers.

“You can say that again,” Gendry groaned, rubbing his head. “Jesus, Arya.” 

“Stupid,” she hissed, massaging her own stinging knuckles. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Tripping and getting punched in the head,” he whispered back. 

“Idiot. Why?”

“Because it’s six-thirty in the morning, and I was _trying_ to be a good boyfriend and let you sleep,” he whispered gruffly.

“I meant, why are you awake?”

“I have that presentation today in Davos’ morning class. I can’t be late this time,” he grunted. “He’s already onto me.”

“Onto you?”

“Last time I was late it was because of you, too.” Gendry raised his eyebrows pointedly, and she felt her body warm at the memory. “And he knows it.” 

She crossed her arms. “How could he possibly know that?”

“Beats me. But he always has his eye on me now.” 

“It still doesn’t explain why you fell on me.” 

He stopped moving around at that. “Your room is huge,” he protested. “I tripped looking for my shoes.” 

Arya rubbed her face. “It’s too early for this.” 

“Which is why I was trying not to wake you up,” he whispered crossly. 

She leaned back, trying not to smile at the pout that was surely on his face. “Well I’m awake now, so why are you still whispering?”

His eyes narrowed at her. “I must have brain damage from your right hook,” he replied, still miffed. 

Now she grinned outright at his sweet irritation, her body wanting to distract him again. She shifted closer as he sat on the bed, his back to her while he pulled on his shoes. “Poor baby,” she said mischievously, her smile widening at his scoff. “Come back to bed and I’ll make it better."

“That’s just cruel,” he replied over his shoulder. “Especially since I have to make it out of your house alive, and then back to my place to change, shower, and shave and make it look like I wasn’t just having really good sex.” 

She pulled closer, wrapping her hands around his waist and pressing her warm body full against him. “You could do those things later,” she suggested, trailing kisses along his neck. Her hands tapped down the buttons of his shirt to his waist and over his tented pants, where he had gone hard.

He groaned. “You’ve got quite the mean streak, you know that, Stark?”

“Then you should probably teach me a lesson.” Her laugh turned into a squeal as he turned around and grabbed her.

_This time when he fell on her, it was on purpose._


	58. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ADwD, Book Canon, Spoilers through ADwD. Future-fic. Arya returns to the Brotherhood to find Gendry and Lady Stoneheart waiting.

Arya stared back at the men in front of her. So many familiar faces, hardened further by the demands of war. 

Tom. Lem. Anguy. They all stood watching her warily, the easy humor she remembered all but gone. She couldn’t blame them. After everything that had happened…there was very little to be trusted in the world. 

Then the men parted almost as one, giving way to Thoros of Myr. He strode right up to her, looking her up and down carefully. Her long braid fell down her back now, and she was in a ratty tunic and leggings, but she hoped he could see what others stupidly had not. She crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow, tapping her foot.

“Are you done?” She asked curtly.

He looked at her curiously, a ghost of a smile flitting on his face. “Arya Stark. Come back from the dead, have you?” 

“I was only ever as dead as I wanted to be,” she replied sharply. Nymeria growled in agreement next to her.

He nodded. “So Bolton was lying after all.” He cocked his head. “The boy was right.”

Arya’s stomach clenched, but she ignored it. Now it was her turn to give him a curious look. “Who was right?”

Thoros gave her a sly smile. “Come and see for yourself.” He turned, knowing she would follow. As he led her through the camp, she caught the whispers of her name floating on the air, alongside the words “ghost” and “dead.” She nearly smiled grimly. It was satisfying to know that she could have disappeared, had she wanted to. 

But Nymeria hadn’t let her. During the days, she was Cat, constantly training and learning the ways of the Faceless Men. But at night, she dreamt. At night, she was Arya Stark again. She ran with Nymeria through the woods, sometimes never stopping ‘til she woke. Other times, she’d come to a camp similar to this one, hearing the sounds of a smith at his forge late into the night.

One night, Nymeria had brought her so close to one of the tents she thought she saw her mother, or some vision of her, and she’d started out of sleep. 

The days became harder to separate from the nights, and she wasn’t sure anymore where Arya Stark ended and Cat began. Finally, she stopped trying to be just one or the other, and the pieces came together as if in one big puzzle. To be Arya again, she had to take back what was hers. What had been her family’s home. And to do that, she needed Cat.

Now, she followed Thoros through the camp, certain it was the one she’d visited with Nymeria. As the sounds of metal ringing got louder, she realized they were approaching the forge. The thought nearly made her dig in her heels and run the other way, but Nymeria butted against her from behind, propelling her forward.

Suddenly she was in the doorway, watching as she had so many years ago, as Gendry brought his hammer down on steel, bending it to his will. He had changed, too. He was impossibly broader and stronger than she remembered. But his face was lost in concentration, focused entirely on the work before him, as he always had done. 

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, simply watching, until Nymeria made a sound next to her and Gendry’s head shot up, his hammer raised mid-swing. He stared at her, unblinking at first, then blinking rapidly as if making sure she wouldn’t disappear suddenly. When she didn’t, his face turned from shock to triumph and he set the hammer down, heading over to her and lifting her off her feet.

She was surprised at how her chest tightened, how quickly her arms wrapped around him just as tightly. He held her for a long time, and she made no move to let go. When he finally did set her down, he held her at arm’s length, his eyes wandering over her face with wonder and more than a little pride.

“I knew it,” he said finally, and his deep voice sent a jolt through her. 

“Knew what?” 

“That bastard would never have you. You’d die before you got sent off to him.” She started at the anger in his voice, at the sheer pain that filled his blue eyes for a moment before it was gone again, replaced by wonder again. 

“I guess I did die, in some way,” she said quietly.

He shook her, hard. “But you came back.” 

She met his gaze. “I did.” Then she turned to her direwolf. “Nymeria wouldn’t let me go that easy.” 

“Good girl,” he said warmly, reaching out to bury a hand in her fur, and Arya’s eyes snapped to him. 

“You…?” She lost her voice for a moment. “You’ve met?”

He nodded. “She followed us for a long while before I realized it was her. I swear she scolded me for not figuring it out sooner.” He shot her a small grin at that, and she was surprised when her mouth turned up easily in return.

Then a shadow crossed his face. “Arya, there’s something else you need to know.” 

She almost took a step back, but his grip on her arm tightened. “Remember what Thoros did for Beric? After the battle with the Hound?” 

“He brought him back,” she whispered.

Gendry nodded tightly. “Beric did that to someone else.” He sighed. “Arya, your mum’s here.” 

She hit him. Her fists pounded against him for lying to her, for daring to give her that hope ever again, for bringing back the loss, still so fresh. The air left her in choked breaths, and his hands closed tightly over hers, pulling her into the forge. 

She heard the door shut behind them as his arms surrounded her, letting her struggle and kick and punch until the fight drained out of her, and she could do nothing but let him sit her at the bench. He kneeled in front of her, his hands warm on her neck where he cupped her face, making her look at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and she knew he meant it. “But you had to know, before you see her somewhere. Arya…she might be back, but she’s not the same.”

“No one’s the same anymore,” she replied tiredly.

“That’s true. But this is different.” His eyes searched hers, waiting until she was ready to continue. “When Thoros brought her back…she didn’t heal. She doesn’t look like Lady Stark anymore. She won’t even call herself that.” 

“The men call her Lady Stoneheart. She wants revenge, Arya.” 

She felt Nymeria come up beside her, butting her head against her knees softly. Arya slid off the bench and put her arms around Nymeria, burying her face in her fur.

When she left Braavos, she had been ready to face those who took her family from her. She’d been ready to kill. 

She hadn’t been ready for this.

Gendry’s hand rested on her back, not moving, just supporting, as her chest heaved with ragged breaths. Finally, she turned to him, not letting go of Nymeria. 

“Does she know I’m here?”

He nodded apologetically. “Most likely. Thoros probably went straight to her after bringing you here.” 

She rested her head against the bench. “Gendry?” She asked after a moment, not missing the way his eyes lit up. “Can I stay here for a while longer?” 

He smiled, pushing a stray hair back behind her ear. “Stay as long as you like, m’lady.” 

It was a reflex when she kicked him half-heartedly, her mouth twitching despite herself, and he let out a laugh. When he got up to finish his work, she let her head droop against Nymeria, falling asleep to the sounds of the forge. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She awoke to a dark room, her eyes adjusting when she realized she was on a cot. Nymeria lay on the floor next to her, Gendry’s hand buried in her fur once more as he sat next to her. He had a faraway look on his face, and Arya studied him quietly. His face was all hard lines and stubbornness, but his shoulders were relaxed as he petted Nymeria.

Then his face turned to hers, and he blinked in surprise.

“Hey,” he said softly. 

“Hi. How long was I out?”

“Couple hours. You looked like you needed it.” A corner of his mouth turned up. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t stab me when I brought you back here.” 

“Me too,” she replied in genuine surprise, and he let out a short laugh again. 

Then footsteps crunched on the ground outside, and Gendry’s face became clouded. “Stay here,” he told her sternly, and was gone before she could argue.

As if. She crept to the doorway, hearing his hushed whispers with Thoros.

“You brought her _now_?” His anger was apparent. “She’s had enough for one day.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” the older man replied, and Arya saw Gendry’s fists clench and unclench before a rasp sounded beyond them. 

It sounded like “please,” but Arya wasn’t sure if it was her imagination running wild. Gendry hesitated, torn, and she took a few steps closer to him.

When she was close, she placed a hand on his arm. “Gendry,” she said quietly. He turned to her, indecision on his face, and she gave his arm a squeeze. “It’s alright.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure.” 

He studied her face for a long moment before nodding once and turning to Thoros. “Bring her in.” 

She felt Nymeria at her legs, circling, as men escorted the lady in. She was dressed in a long grey cloak, the hood obscuring her face. Arya was barely aware of Thoros leading them to wait outside and closing the door. She didn’t realize she was still gripping Gendry’s arm until he pried her fingers free, only to wrap his hand around hers tightly.

"Arya?” It came out harshly, as if it had pained her to form the word.

“It’s her,” Gendry replied firmly, and Arya realized the two of them were familiar.

She looked at Nymeria, who was sitting on her haunches now, deceptively calm. 

“Can she…can you remove the hood?” Arya asked. When she felt the hesitation, she added, “I’m not going to run. I saw you, after…after the Twins. In the water. Nymeria and I … we saw.” 

Gendry’s hand squeezed hers, and she waited, until finally the lady pulled back her hood. Arya stared at the woman she used to call mother, whose face was now twisted and almost unrecognizable, the slash across her throat still dark red. Arya was filled with fury once again, and saw it reflected in the older woman’s eyes. 

She didn’t know what to do until Lady Stoneheart reached out a hand, waiting, and Arya put her hand in hers. They stood that way for a moment, Arya realizing Gendry had been right when he said this wasn’t truly her mother. 

But it was something, and it was more than Arya could have ever hoped for after that horrible night. As she felt her anger travel through her, she remembered once more why she’d returned.

The Lady’s eyes traveled over every inch of Arya, memorizing her, and something akin to a smile crossed her face. She took in her other hand, still clasped in Gendry’s, and her gaze drifted to his. Her face became darker, then, as she rasped out, “Kill.” 

Gendry nodded back, his gaze just as hard. “We will. We won’t forget.” 

Arya watched, seeing the common purpose that had joined them. Then her mother stroked her hand once more before moving to the doorway, and as she left, Arya was left with more emotions than she could identify at once.

Gendry moved to stand in front of her, searching her face again in concern.

“I’m not going to break, stupid,” she scolded him, and his face twitched. “I’m just … I just need some time.” 

He nodded. “Okay.” 

She sat down hard on the bench, absently realizing that she hadn’t let go of his hand, pulling him down next to her. 

“She really does want revenge,” she said after a while, and he looked at her carefully.

“We both do.” She turned her head to his, seeing again the pain he’d hid before. “We lost you, Arya. I thought you were long dead for years. Your family was taken from you. It’s the same people who keep doing these things, and it’s enough. They have to pay.” 

She took in his rage, let it fill her to the brim. “They will,” she promised. “Why do you think I came back? We’re taking it all back. Everything they took, and more.” 

The fire in his eyes matched hers, and she knew this time, things would be different.


	59. Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ADwD, Book Canon. Future-fic. The Starks return for the Freys and Boltons.
> 
> Could be considered a companion to Chapter 58, Revenge (dealing with Arya's return), but just know that many events have occurred between these two chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just something that popped into my head at work. highly unrealistic, but wouldn't it be great... that's why fanfiction exists, right? ;)

The sounds of laughter and conversation floated from the main hall into the corridor where Gendry was hidden. It was all he could do not to walk straight in there and slap the silly smiles off all their faces.

Well, one particular face in general. He’d been waiting for the day he came face-to-face with Bolton’s bastard. 

He knew he was in there, along with his father and the Freys. Ever since the Red Wedding, the Boltons and Freys had become united in their betrayal. Most others didn’t care to associate with them, especially not with House Frey, but these two families had openly supported each other.

It made him sick.

He itched to find Arya, to take her hand and walk away, far away, until they could be ghosts to everyone but each other. But he knew she had to do this. When she’d stood across the river the night before, her grey eyes unwavering upon the Twins, he’d felt it. Everyone had. She was coming to reclaim what had been taken, and nobody would be the same again.

He knew she’d stood in the very spot many years before, coming so close to her family only to have the ripped away yet again. It had pushed her over the edge, towards something neither of them could find words to describe. 

She’d returned from Braavos changed in so many ways, yet still so familiar to him. She was a true young woman now, her body having lost its child’s shape long ago. Her grey eyes were stubborn as ever, but now always watching, always wary, always thinking. Words flew out of her pretty mouth sharply as ever, and she never failed to find a retort for him, but he didn’t miss the edge that often accompanied her jokes with the other men of the Brotherhood. Arya may have come back, but she trusted no one.

He hoped to one day be an exception to that rule. For now, he was content to be by her side, and every fleeting smile, shove, or punch that did come his way was his own small victory.

The sound of a clinking glass came from the hall and he tensed, throwing a look across the hall to where Tom hid. It was nearly time.

As a hush fell over the hall and Walter Frey’s reedy, smug voice filled the air, he felt the hatred well up in him for this man who had caused so much grief. If this was how he felt, he could only imagine what Arya was going through.

At that moment, a thunk sounded and Gendry leaped to his feet, taking out the guard at the door while Tom took care of the other. They pushed into the hall as the doors on the opposite side also opened, bringing in Anguy and Lem. Men in dark-colored tunics rushed in behind them, weapons out as they surrounded the tables. Walder Frey stood at the head table, staring in disbelief at the arrow sticking out of the chair next to his head.

“Next time, I won’t miss.” Arya’s voice rang clear throughout the hall as she came in the main doors, flanked by several men, including Thoros. Her face was deceptively blank, and Gendry knew she was putting everything she had into keeping her mask in place. He couldn’t see her eyes from here, and thought maybe it was better that way.

They closed the doors on all sides, enclosing everyone in the main hall. His eyes found Bolton and his bastard, frozen in shock as they stared at Arya, and his jaw clenched. They had no right to even lay eyes on her. 

She ignored them completely, her gaze squarely on the eldest Frey. “You don’t even know who I am, do you?” Her voice was full of scorn, the hands holding her bow shaking in anger. “Allow me to introduce my friends, then, and maybe you can guess,” she said mockingly. 

“These,” she gestured to Thoros and a few of the men, “are the men of the Brotherhood Without Banners.” 

She nodded at the dark-clothed men. “I reckon you’ve heard of the Night’s Watch, yes?” One of the men stepped forward, removing his hood to reveal curly black hair, and Gendry smiled grimly at the mutters that spread throughout the hall.

“Good,” Arya continued. “Then you’ll surely recognize my brother, Lord Commander Jon Snow.” The look on Frey’s face would have been comical in any other situation.

“Oh, let’s see, who else,” Arya tapped her foot in mock thought. “Ah, of course. The men of Winterfell. That name, you must surely know,” she continued, her gaze hardening on Bolton. 

“Any guesses yet?” She turned back to Frey, who was still speechless, and rolled her eyes. “Very well, then. If I must, I’ll give you another clue.” 

She moved to the side, and a figure stepped forward from the group that had been flanking her. Sansa removed her hood, a thin gold circlet sitting on her bright red hair, and watched with cold triumph as the recognition spread. Her blue eyes flashed at Walder Frey.

“What, no comparison to my dear mother?” Her voice dripped with undisguised disgust. She crossed her arms. “I’m disappointed. You’re usually so full of declarations.” Her gaze flitted to Bolton, her eyes narrowing much as Arya’s had. “I have to say, burning Winterfell was clever. But then, none of the Starks were there, so what could have been your point? Surely you didn’t think we’d let you live?”

“Could he really be that daft?” She turned to Arya, whose face held nothing but cold fury.

“He must be. Who else could be dimwitted enough to claim they’re marrying _me_?” 

Despite everything, Gendry nearly smiled.

Arya turned back to Frey, contempt in her voice. “By now, I hope your moronic, feeble mind has deduced that I am Arya Stark.” She hefted her bow. “Now that introductions are done,” she said, and fired an arrow into Frey’s shoulder. He doubled over the arm of his chair as she strode forward, not stopping until she was behind him, using her bow to lever his neck up to look at Sansa.

“This will be slow,” she informed him. “So I suggest you get used to pain.” 

Then her dagger was out, digging in just enough to draw a thin line of red across his neck, and she looked up again at the back of the room. The doors opened and a hooded figure walked into the hall, and Gendry’s grip on his hammer tightened.

This was it. This whole twisted show had been leading to this moment. It had been Sansa’s idea, to make a full production of it. Take from them as they have taken from us, she had said, and let the whole world know.

As the hooded figure walked further into the hall, Arya called out in a falsely light tone, “Look, mother. Now you both match.” 

Frey’s eyes widened and chairs scraped back as Lady Stoneheart removed her hood. Her crazed, grief-filled eyes stared at Frey as Sansa came up to stand next to her, her face filled with loathing.

“The Starks send their regards,” she said coldly, and Arya stabbed Frey in the stomach. She and two other men dragged him in front of the table and she removed her knife, wiping it on his tunic as he bled out slowly.

Then she grinned at the Boltons, practically daring them, and Roose Bolton made a move for his sword. Gendry was already moving towards them, not wanting the bastard to leave his sight.

Jon got there first, their swords clashing, and the battle began. Thoros and the Brotherhood enclosed Sansa in a tight circle, though Gendry caught the flash of her dagger also.

The fighting was vicious on both sides, but there was never a question of the outcome. The Starks had not come here to lose. Not this time. Not ever again. This was their show, under their control. They exacted vengeance on their terms. 

Gendry lost count of how many times he brought his hammer up, his arm absorbing the force of the blows continuously. Bolton’s bastard was fighting, but Gendry could see him trying to sneak out, trying to pull yet another disappearing act. Gendry would have none of it.

He pushed another man out of his way, giving another a swift kick to his stomach as he moved on. As he neared Ramsay Bolton, he saw the other man’s eyes were lit up, crazy with the fervor of the fight. He fought with a demented smile, slashing at people as if playing a game. He got off on it, Gendry realized with disgust. 

As Ramsay made to slip through a couple men, Gendry reached out and yanked him back by his belt, throwing him against a table. Bolton’s mad grin was still firmly in place as he pulled up, swinging his sword gleefully. They lunged and parried, moving in and out of other fights, and Gendry was oblivious to everything but the rage he’d carried for so long.

Bolton thought he would tire him out, but he didn’t know he was dealing with a smith, who’d spent nearly all his life swinging a hammer against steel. Gendry’s arm didn’t give, and when he felt Bolton’s force lessen, he began to press back, taking control. He drove Bolton against the far wall, knocking the sword out of his hand.

The bastard’s manic grin only grew. “Such rage,” he drawled. “What did I do to you?”

Gendry dropped his hammer, forgetting himself. He grabbed Bolton’s shirt, slamming him into the wall over and over. He wouldn’t stop smiling long after the life left him, and Gendry knew the sight would haunt him for a long time.

“Gendry!” Arya’s yell was full of panic and he turned in worry for her, only to be barreled into by a larger man. The wind was knocked from him as he hit the floor hard, and he reached out blindly, trying to grasp his hammer.

Then he felt cool metal slice into his thigh, and searing pain shot through his leg. He made himself reach farther, feeling his grip finally close around the hammer. He brought it down across his body, feeling the satisfying thud as it hit whoever was on him. 

He sat up, feeling dizzy from the warm blood running down his leg. Then Arya’s braid swung into view and she was dropping down next to him, her hands shaking him by the shoulders.

“Stupid!” Her voice was frantic. “Why did you turn your back?”

He didn’t have a reply for that, only able to tell her, “I got him.” 

She turned to see Ramsay Bolton lying against the wall, face still twisted in a grin but eyes unseeing. Understanding flashed across her face before she found his gaze again, her grip on his shoulders tightening. He felt relief wash through him, his eyes closing – it was done. Then she let out a distressed sound, and he opened his eyes to see her looking at the red now covering his leg. 

“Jon!” She yelled, and Gendry looked around wonderingly, realizing the battle was nearly over. He’d lost all track of time in his pursuit of Bolton.

Jon took one look at him and went to grab a healer, who swiftly cleaned and wrapped his leg tightly as Arya looked on. Her mouth was set in a line, but her grey eyes were full of concern. When she saw him watching her, the worry was replaced by anger as she scolded him repeatedly, though he noticed her that hands trembled. 

When the healer was done, Jon and Arya helped him stand, Jon not letting go until Gendry had tested his weight carefully. Arya’s arm stayed around his waist, the other resting on his chest in support, and Gendry thought deliriously that he liked the feeling of her arms around him. 

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Jon asked, and he nodded. “Be sure to hold on tight to her.” 

“Gladly,” Gendry responded contentedly.

Jon’s mouth twitched, and Arya looked at him strangely. “I think you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Jon clapped him on the shoulder before going to find Thoros and Sansa. Gendry smiled down at Arya dazedly, and her face softened after a moment, bringing his forehead down to hers.

“Stupid,” she murmured again. “Don’t scare me like that ever again.”

“Yes, m’lady.”


	60. Katsa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future fic. Pure fluff (duh).

Katsa blocked another blow from her mother in the practice yard, relishing the force of the punch all the same. She always cherished these fights, the way neither of them ever held back. Training with her uncles or the other guards was fun, but she could always sense them holding back slightly, though they hid it well. 

But here, in the small yard behind their home, she was free to attack (or usually, defend) without hesitation. The older woman wasn’t even masking her own grin, and Katsa knew a similar joy was coursing through her body.

They continued, back and forth, until the sweat pearled on their foreheads. They circled and dodged and traded blows until finally, her mother had her pinned face first on the ground. But Katsa was laughing by then, and as her mom helped her up, so was she.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of watching that,” a deep, lilting voice remarked from behind her, and she turned happily to see a tall man leaning against the rail. A wide grin was on her father’s face, and the mischief in his blue eyes matched hers. She ran over to him, placing a kiss on his cheek in surprise. 

“You’re done work early.”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t pass up the chance to see my two favorite ladies in battle.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I don’t see any ladies here.”

He laughed then, a loud and happy sound that filled the space around them. She grinned.

“Now that you’re here, you must fight her,” Katsa said gleefully, trying to push him into the yard and groaning when he didn’t budge. “Mother,” she called plaintively.

Her mother grinned back, grey eyes flashing with amusement and more than a little challenge as she threw her long braid over her shoulder and propped a hand on her hip. Katsa’s father turned his head, giving her a wink.

“Darling,” he called out cheekily. “Our daughter is begging for me to fight you. What _have_ you been teaching her?”

Katsa muffled a laugh as he took a couple of steps into the yard, hands casually tucked into his trouser pockets.

Her mother arched an eyebrow silently – an overly familiar gesture to both Katsa and her father. He never learned, though. Or rather, Katsa amended, he chose not to. 

He continued his approach, still talking. “We really must chat about the things you say to her. She’ll never be a proper lady if-” 

He threw his hands up with a laugh as her mother lunged at him. Katsa would never tire of watching them fight. If she thought her mother was free with her, she was even less careful with her own husband. Her kicks and punches landed squarely, distributing blows to his whole body (when he wasn’t fast enough to block her, that is). And he was no gentler with her. His first few minutes were spent in defense, as always. Then, slowly but surely, his own strength would move him onto the offensive, giving as good as he got. She watched as her mother pulled out old training moves that she barely used now, her delight apparent on her face.

Katsa knew it looked strange – savage, even – to others. But what most people didn’t understand was the comfort her parents found in hand-to-hand combat. Usually, they’d practice with their weapons, her sword clashing against his hammer. But fights like this were their favorite. It was an all-out, no-holds-barred contest, and they enjoyed every minute.

They had an intimate awareness of each other that surpassed most regular fighters (and couples), and because of that, their fights were filled not with caution, but freedom. Her father was laughing freely, as usual, and her mother could barely fight the grin on her own face. She’d force it down only to have it reappear a few seconds later. 

Then her small body began to twist faster around his massive one, doling out blow after blow in rapid succession in the hopes that he would miss one block. Sure enough, one of her kicks landed squarely, knocking him to the ground before she followed to pin him. 

He lay there with a foolish grin despite having the breath knocked out of him. Her mother let her own smile break free finally, and a laugh escaped her as he leaned up to kiss her swiftly, though she still held his arms down.

“I yield,” he said, and Katsa cheered from the rail. He gave her a mockingly hurt look. “My own daughter, cheering my failure.” He looked at his wife. “She’s definitely yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katsa's name comes from a book called Graceling, by Kristin Cashore. It's an awesome read, I totally recommend it. I've re-read it a few times this past year, and this time prompted this drabble. She's pretty kickass, not unlike Arya in that sense :)


	61. Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ADwD, TV show canon. Future-fic, if Stannis took the throne. Davos crosses the Narrow Sea and finds more than he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> purely because I loved Davos and Gendry's interaction in the finale, short as it was. poor baby's on a boat now. sigh.

Davos walked through the city, slowly weaving between the throngs of people. He was in no hurry. Stannis had sent him as his ambassador to Braavos, to confirm Queen Sansa’s claim. The queen of Winterfell had consistently denied knowledge of her sister’s whereabouts, kindly but firmly stating that she had stopped chasing ghosts long ago. Davos had understood and not broached the subject further on their visit. When they left, however, Stannis revealed he wanted his own confirmation and sent Davos across the Narrow Sea soon after.

Davos had been in the city for a few days already and seen nothing of interest. His ship left tomorrow morning. So now he wandered by the docks, fairly content to spend his final day at the water, observing the Braavosi people.

Then he saw him. The boy – no, no longer a boy – pushed his way through the crowd, towering over most with his height. He hefted a box on his left shoulder, his right hand clasping the hand of another. The person next to him was slight and small, and slipped easily through the crowd next to him, virtually unnoticed.

But Davos was watching. He followed them carefully, keeping his eyes on the shock of black hair bobbing in front of him. When they entered a forge by the harbor, his heart lightened. The young man set down the box and turned to speak to his companion, an easy smile on his face and warmth in his blue eyes. Davos could see, even from his distance, that the lad was smitten.

After the young woman – it was a she, of that he was nearly certain – had left through the back, the smith began his work. Daavos decided not to interrupt him in the midst of the day. No, he’d return later that evening, when there were fewer eyes about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he returned to the forge that evening, the front door was bolted closed, though he could see a fire burning inside. As he circled around to the back, he noticed a door ajar. Just as his hand was reaching for the knob, he felt cool steel on his neck, and stilled.

“Who needs a smith at this hour?” Her voice was cold, like the coldest of snows in winter, and every instinct told him to be extremely careful.

“I meant no harm. I only thought to visit an old friend.” He felt the blade flatten against his neck.

“And who would that be?”

“The young lad in there. Gendry.” As soon as the name left his mouth, he felt the blade bite into his neck again.

“How do you know that name?” She hissed, and he heard the fear in her voice.

“I knew him long ago.” He paused, judging how much to tell her, then decided on the truth. “I helped him escape the Red Woman.”

He felt it, the hesitation in her hold. Then the door swung open, and Gendry stood before him. Shock, happiness, and disbelief warred on his face, and he looked over Davos’ shoulder to answer the girl’s unspoken question. “I heard voices.”

“Do you know him?” She asked, and he heard how different, how warm her own voice was.

“Davos?” Gendry asked hesitantly, and Davos nodded. “It’s really you,” the boy breathed. “Let him be, love.”

When her grip didn’t loosen, he came closer, reaching up to wrap his hand around her wrist. “Trust me.” She let him bring the knife away from Davos’ throat and stepped back warily.

Davos smiled, clapping Gendry on the shoulders, surprised when he received an embrace in return. 

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” the young man said once more, and Davos grinned. 

“Can’t get rid of me that easy.” 

Gendry smiled at him again, and he wondered what had happened to the bitter, lost boy he’d put on a boat so long ago. Davos looked around pointedly. “This does not look like King’s Landing.”

Gendry laughed, pulling him inside. “I got lost. I know, what a surprise, right. There was a storm one night, and I ended up ashore somehow. The boat was long gone.” He shrugged. “Kept walking, and eventually I made it here, found good work.” 

His eyes flicked behind Davos momentarily, and the older man knew work was not all he’d found. Davos turned to see her watching him carefully, the hood of her cloak still turned up. 

“We haven’t properly met.” He held out his hand. “Davos Seaworth.”

She looked at Gendry one more time before carefully removing her hood, revealing clear grey eyes that he would have known in his sleep. Coupled with the dark hair plaited down her back, there was no question. Despite his shock, he kept his hand out, and after a moment she took it. “It’s good to meet you.” Her voice was not as cold as before, though she still spoke cautiously. “Thank you, for helping Gendry.” 

“It was the right thing to do,” he responded firmly, and a hint of a smile formed on Arya’s face. 

“My father would have said the same thing.” 

Davos nodded, in both agreement and sympathy, before turning to Gendry. “I thought all high-borns were trouble?”

Arya raised an eyebrow, and Gendry smiled sheepishly in response before putting an arm around her. “She’s not. She’s Arya.” 

Her grey eyes appraised him carefully before asking, “You’re the Hand to Stannis, yes?”

“Yes, m’lad-“ Davos cut off as Gendry shook his head. “Yes.”

Arya threw an amused look at Gendry before replying. “I take it you visited Winterfell, then.” At his nod, she continued. “And he sent you here to confirm my sister’s words.”

He nodded again, and now Gendry began to look worried. Davos held up a hand. “You have nothing to fear from me. Neither of you.” He held each of their gazes until Arya nodded once, satisfied he was telling the truth.

The concern remained on Gendry’s face, though. “Lad, I won’t give you up,” Davos told him. “I’m a slow learner, remember?”

The young man’s face eased into a small smile of gratitude. 

“May I ask one thing?” Davos turned to Arya. “Why the secrecy?”

She paused, then let out a breath. “Winterfell will always be my home, and it eases me to know it is being well-taken care of. But I can’t stay confined there, pretending the past seven, eight years didn’t happen.” Some of the pain slipped through the mask on her face, and Davos instantly felt for this young girl who had so much taken from her. Then her face hardened again. “I am useful here, so here I will stay. Plus, I have help.” She smiled up at Gendry, who squeezed her shoulder in response. 

Davos watched them. “You have my word that nobody will know until and unless you want them to.”

“Thank you,” she said. “My sister will want to hear what you found. Be truthful with her. Always,” she added as a warning, and he nodded. 

“If you ever need anything, either of you, do not hesitate,” he told them sternly. He stayed at the forge that night, exchanging stories with Gendry and Arya until late and thinking he might ask Stannis to make this ambassador thing more permanent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gendry saw him off the next morning at the dock, and they both grinned at the role reversal. 

“However do you keep meeting these high-borns?” Davos asked with a grin. 

Gendry laughed shortly. “Trust me, Arya is the only one I ever wanted to know.” 

Davos looked at him. “You’ve known her a while.”

The young man nodded. “Since we were kids. She was being smuggled back to Winterfell, pretending to be a Night’s Watch recruit.” His face took on a faraway look. “A lot happened after that. We both made mistakes … as you well know.” His face cleared and he turned back to Davos. “But that’s in the past.” 

“And now?”

“We take care of each other,” Gendry said simply, and Davos nodded. That much had been apparent to him at first sight.

They shook hands, and he turned to go. “You should ask Stannis to send you back more often,” Gendry called after him, grinning.

Davos grinned back. “Tell you what, I’ll bring a bowl of brown with me next time.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.”


	62. Worried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ADwD, future-fic.

He found her deep in the crypts of Winterfell, sitting before her father’s burial vault.

Arya’s face was open, unguarded, and he hesitated, not wanting to interrupt her thoughts.

“You may as well come and sit.” Her voice was dry, but not unkind. “I’m not planning on leaving for a while.”

Gendry smiled to himself and moved forward, easing down next to her. Arya’s grey eyes appraised him with something akin to amusement before her gaze drifted back to the vault.

His eyes followed, noting the handful of flowers that were resting gently against the tomb, wrapped together with twine. 

_Magnolias._

He hadn’t heard the word until a few days ago, when he’d caught her looking at a patch of them outside. They stood for dignity, she’d told him.

“Today would have been his name day,” Arya said softly. He turned to find her eyes still on the flowers. “There would have been such a celebration…planned by mum, of course.” 

Gendry was silent, unsure of how to respond. “Tell me about him,” he said finally, and her eyes met his. He waited, his gaze unwavering, letting her decide.

Then Arya began talking. Her words came slowly at first, then more animatedly as her stories went on and the good memories returned. Gendry found himself smiling as she described the Winterfell she knew as a child, and all the nooks and secret passages she’d found to hide in, far away from the duties of being a lady. Sheepishly, she mentioned being brought in front of her parents more than once in a distinctly un-ladylike fashion, and laughed at the thought of her dad’s helpless smile in the face of her mum’s exasperation.

A small smile remained on her face as she trailed off. “I didn’t know I still remembered all that.” She looked at him in slight wonder. “Thanks, Gendry.”

He shrugged. “I did nothing.”

Arya shook her head, but kept smiling. Then, quietly, she added, “I think you two would have gotten on well.” 

Gendry was surprised, but immensely pleased. “You remember my bull helm?” At her nod, he went on. “Your father told me it was great work, something to be proud of. That meant a lot.” 

“He didn’t ask to buy it,” Arya mused, and Gendry coughed lightly. 

“I may have refused to sell it to him.” His grin was sheepish as Arya let out another laugh.

“Of course you did. Knowing him, he probably liked you all the better for it.”

They sat in comfortable silence, the only sound coming from a constant drip of water somewhere. 

“Did Sansa send you to find me?” Arya asked after a while.

“Why do you assume someone had to send me to find you?” He grinned at her surprised look. “Don’t you think I would have just come looking because _I_ missed your company, m’lady?”

He didn’t miss the happy expression on her face before she flushed and looked away, but he decided to let her off the hook. “I think your sister was pre-occupied.” 

Arya nodded, chewing on her lip. “Why did you come, then?” She asked curiously.

Gendry shrugged, not looking at her. “You weren’t at the forge, and Nymeria was far too quiet.” He decided to skip the initial panic that had overtaken him. “I got worried.”

He felt Arya’s gaze on him, but wouldn’t look up to meet it.

“I guess I’m used to being on my own,” she said quietly. “It’s been a long time since anyone was worried about me.”

“Well, get used to it.” 

Arya’s mouth twitched. “Okay,” she said simply, shifting closer until their knees bumped. When she rested her head against his shoulder, Gendry nearly stopped breathing. Then his hand crept into hers, and when he received no punch in response, he didn’t let go.


	63. Acorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future-fic. Book canon.

“Absolutely not.” Arya crossed her arms defiantly.

“Arya!” 

“Sansa, really. You couldn’t choose anything else?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Sansa demanded, still holding up the patterned fabric. “It’s perfect for the Autumn Festival.”

“Look, I agree that the fest was a good idea. We all need something to lift our spirits.” Her face was set in stubbornness. “But I will not be wearing that.”

Sansa threw up her arms in a huff. “Then you will be naked because this is all we have.”

“Fine.”

They glared at each other until a tentative voice broke the silence. “Your Grace?”

Gendry was in the doorway, his hand raised to knock on the open door. Sansa glared at Arya again before turning to him. “Gendry. Excellent timing.”

He inclined his head. “The preparations are almost done. Did you want to take a look? I also have a few questions.”

“Right, of course.” Then Sansa had an idea. “First, though I have a question for you.” Gendry waited, hesitant. “What do you think of this?” She held up the fabric again, and Arya groaned.

Gendry squinted, and a look of amusement crossed his face as he glanced at Arya. “Acorns?” His voice was suddenly warm and teasing.

Arya rolled her eyes, but looked away. As she watched the flush creep into her sister’s cheeks, Sansa suddenly had the impression she’d brought up something very old and private. 

“I thought it would be more than appropriate for Autumn,” she said primly, still eyeing her sister. 

Gendry was watching Arya as well, a faint smile on his face before he realized Sansa was expecting an answer.

“Right. I’m sure you know better than I do, Your Grace,” he said sheepishly. 

Arya snapped. “I’m going to look like an oak tree!”

Gendry’s mouth twitched as he looked down, fighting a laugh, though Sansa suspected it was for other reasons.

“Arya, don’t be ridiculous,” Sansa sighed.

“An oak tree,” Arya repeated.

“A very nice oak tree,” came Gendry’s quiet murmur, and both sisters looked at him in surprise. His blue eyes were still laughing, but his words had been sincere. Then the surprise crossed his face as he realized he’d spoken aloud.

Arya looked away first, her face still red, and he hastily recovered.

“Excuse me, Your Grace. I’ll be outside when you’re ready.” He turned to Arya. “M’lady.” He grinned and retreated before Arya could reply.

“What was that about?” Sansa inquired, and Arya glared back at her.

“Nothing. He’s an idiot.” Arya’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. She eyed the fabric again, with slightly less disdain than before. “Can you at least make it into a tunic?”

Sansa’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I’m sure that’s possible. You’ll have to talk to Septa Mycelle.”

“Alright.” 

“So you’ll wear it then?” Sansa asked hopefully.

Arya nodded and left, not even pretending to stomp out.

Sansa watched her go in utter bemusement, wondering what exactly had just happened.


	64. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently this is what happens when I have crazy ship feels and watch Gilmore Girls XD Scene is from 1x06 "Rory's Birthday Parties."
> 
> God, the fluffballs.

Arya sat at the diner, toying with her coffee cake.

“Come on, Arya, it’s your birthday. What’s wrong?” Kel looked at her as she sipped her coffee.

“I’m just not looking forward to tonight.”

“Your party?”

“It’s not mine. It’s my mum’s idea of a party,” she grumbled. “I have to dress up and ‘be a proper lady’.”

“Did you talk to her about it?”

Arya shook her head. “It’s been a good distraction, with everything that’s happened lately. She seems happy. And she and Jon are somehow getting along this week. I don’t want to mess that up.”

She glanced at Kel, worrying her lip. “It’s one night, right?”

Kel smiled back. “One night.” Her grin turned cheeky. “Then we can do our own blowout Wildling-style the night after.”

Arya laughed with her. Then the door opened, and Gendry walked in. She stilled, looking back down at her cake. As he waited in line, she snuck a glance or two at him, not noticing that he was just as shyly looking back at her. 

He’d become so much more than Jon’s best friend to her in the recent weeks, to the point that her stomach did somersaults when he smiled. It was irritating and frightening and also a bit exciting. Only Arya had no idea what it all meant.

As Gendry took his coffee to-go with a thank-you, she glanced up again, this time meeting his blue eyes as he pulled the door open.

“Happy Birthday,” he mouthed with a grin. Arya felt her face form its own foolish smile and finally took a bite of her cake, thinking maybe the day might not be so bad after all.


	65. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future-fic.

She left in the middle of the night, when the half-moon was high and nearly everyone was asleep. Her strange behavior had bothered him all evening; not that she thought anyone noticed. But small things had caught his eye, and he’d been ready.

So when Nymeria scratched at the back door to the forge at that ungodly hour, Gendry had awakened almost instantly, grabbed his rucksack and followed the wolf outside the gates of Winterfell.

Nymeria trotted along unconcerned, and though he was worried they wouldn’t catch up, he didn’t rush her. She was Arya’s wolf, after all. She would know best how to find her mistress.

When she stopped abruptly, curling upon herself to sleep, Gendry looked around in question, seeing nothing but darkness and forest. Sitting down with a thump next to the wolf, he opened his rucksack to take out some bread.

The cool steel of her blade against his throat made his fingers still.

“You never learned to be quiet, did you?” Arya’s voice was mocking.

“Nobody’s as quiet as you, m’lady,” he replied, and felt her dagger leave his throat, though she didn’t sit. 

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was nearly as sharp as her blade.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Like hell you are.” When he didn’t move, she added, “I’m not going back. I don’t know if I ever will.”

“I know,” he replied softly.

“Then why are you here?” She asked again, propping her hands on her hips.

“Like I said, I’m coming with you.” He used his own knife to cut a small piece of bread and cheese, handing it to her silently. After a moment, Arya took the offered food and sat next to him with a huff.

“No, you’re not,” she said, and he thought he detected a hint of sadness in his voice, but her answer made him angry all the same.

“And why’s that, m’lady?”

“Because I’m supposed to be alone,” she replied matter-of-factly, and there were a hundred things Gendry wanted to do to show her that was not the case.

Carefully, slowly (she was awful fast with her blade when she wanted to be), he placed a finger under her chin, turning her face towards him.

“Says who?”

Arya shrugged, but kept her eyes on him. “Everyone.”

“I didn’t hear them.”

A corner of her mouth curved up. “That’s because you don’t listen.”

“Maybe. Since when does Arya Stark let other people tell her how to live?”

Her grey eyes flashed, giving him the reaction he’d been hoping for. “Nobody tells me how to do anything,” she shot back, and he smiled.

“Exactly. So why start now?”

Startled, she simply gazed at him, her lovely face twisted with uncertainty and stubbornness. But Gendry was stubborn, too.

Then she shook her head, pulling away. “You’ll go back in the morning. Nymeria can take you.”

“Nymeria brought me. She’ll no more take me back than I want to go.” He shrugged. “Resistance is futile, m’lady.”

Gendry grinned at her wide-eyed expression, leaning back against his rucksack and letting his eyes droop. He watched her carefully through a half-lidded gaze, and saw the moment when her shoulders relaxed and a true smile slipped through her mask. 

Then she glanced at him once more and he shut his eyes fully, thinking that if she decided to send him back some harebrained way, he should at least have the strength to fight her on it. But when thought occurred to him that she might leave him before he had a chance to catch up, his eyes flew open again.

Arya must have seen the wariness on his face. “What is it?”

“Don’t run,” he said simply, holding her gaze for as long as he dared. Then he closed his eyes again, hoping against all odds that she’d hear him for once.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gendry awoke to a wet nose on his cheek and put his hands up to push Nymeria away. Then he remembered where he was, and his eyes opened as he sat up quickly, intending to pack and run after Arya if he had to.

She wasn’t there.

He stumbled to his feet, confused when Nymeria seemed in no rush to move. 

“Come on,” he urged as best he could without angering her. “We have to go.”

“Why in such a rush?”

Gendry whirled at her voice, relief rushing through him at the sight of Arya standing a few feet away.

“I thought you’d left,” he said dumbly.

Arya only raised her eyebrows at him, but didn’t reply.

“Cup your hands.”

“What?”

Rolling her eyes, she walked over and grabbed his hand, turning it so his palm faced up and fingers were curled. Then she reached into her belt pocket, bringing out a handful of berries. 

“For me?”

She nodded. “For your walk back.”

Though her grey eyes were set in determination, there was also a challenge hidden in her words, and he realized the test for what it was.

Gendry set his jaw, his own gaze hard. “Did you not hear me before? I’m coming with you.”

“And did you hear me? I’m better off alone.”

“You of all people should know I don’t listen very well.”

Arya’s gaze faltered, and she looked to Nymeria, chewing her lip absently. He stood in front of her, palms up, waiting for their silent conversation to finish. When it did, her gaze traveled back up to his face, searching, and he let her look, hoping she found whatever it was she was looking for.

“We move when I say we do. If you slow me down, I _will_ send you back.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

“And don’t call me m’lady.” With that, Arya dropped the berries in his palms, wiping her hands on her breeches and turning to go, Nymeria brushing past him to trot beside her.

With a foolish grin, Gendry followed, popping the berries into his mouth and savoring the taste of victory – for with Arya, it would certainly be one of very few.


	66. Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future-fic. Queen Sansa, etc. Sansa ships it.

Sansa heard her name echo through the courtyard and turned, seeing her sister approaching rapidly. 

“I need your help,” Arya said as soon as she was within distance. “It’s Gendry.” Her voice faltered. “I found him in the forge. He’s burning up … I think he needs a maester, but I can’t move him.”

There was a note of panic in Arya’s voice that she hadn’t heard in a long time, and it made Sansa want to hold her reassuringly. Instead, Sansa did what she knew her sister would appreciate more than a hug: she took stock of the situation and acted quickly, grabbing a young page and telling him to find Maester Tryndell and Lord Snow. 

Taking Arya’s hand firmly, she led her back to the forge. When they slipped in the back, she grimaced at Gendry’s state. His whole body was covered in sweat, his normally bright eyes dulled by the pain. A cough shook his body, the sound rattling harshly in the air, and Arya moved instantly to him.

Gendry opened his mouth to protest weakly. “Don’t get too close.”

Arya shushed him, folding herself onto the cot. She gently cradled his head in her lap, murmuring to him, and Sansa had to turn away at the tenderness in her sister’s voice. Noticing the pail of water and wet rag lying next to the cot, she realized Arya must have been with him for a while, trying and failing to cool his overheated skin.

Then footsteps sounded outside, and she went to let in the maester. Jon was there as well, and he brushed her cheek briefly before following the older man to the back. Sansa stood with him in the doorway as the maester attended to Gendry, his head still resting in Arya’s lap. Her sister was listening to him intently, the worry apparent on her face, and Sansa bit back a smile despite herself. As much as Arya argued, yelled, and stomped at the blacksmith, there was no doubt she deeply cared for him. The fact that she wasn’t bothering to hide it also spoke to how afraid she was now. 

Although the maester explained it was merely a passing sickness, the concern on Arya’s face didn’t ease. The fever would last through the night, he told her gently, and break by morning. He’d be well within a few days. 

“And if it doesn’t break in the morning?”

“It will,” the maester said firmly, and Arya bit back a reply, simply nodded as her fingers absently threaded through Gendry’s hair. 

After a giving Arya a tight hug, Jon escorted the maester out. Sansa paused in the doorway.

“I’ll be back with dinner. No arguing,” she added as Arya began to wave her off, and her sister gave her a small smile in thanks.

Sansa swiped food from the kitchens with extra thanks and hugs for the cooks before returning to the forge. As she was about to open the back door, she heard low voices on the other side.

“Sorry about this.” Gendry’s voice was low and hoarse.

“Stupid bull,” came Arya’s reply. “Don’t be sorry. Just get better.” 

Sansa smiled, backing up a few steps and closing the forge door a little more loudly. The voices stopped, and she pushed the door open with her boot, balancing the bag of food in her hand.

“I know I eat a lot, but really, Sansa?” Arya teased, albeit weakly.

“It’s for both of us. And Gendry, when he’s able.”

Arya protested. “Sansa, no. You should be eating with everyone else.”

“Nonsense.” She was about to flop down on the floor when Gendry raised his hand. When he was unable to get the words out, Arya leaned down to hear his whisper. Then she smiled and looked up, pointing to the corner.

“He says there’s a quilt in there. If you’d like to use it.”

Sansa smiled at him in reply, laying it out and then flopping down, and Arya grinned. Sansa handed her some food as she continued to lay the cold rag against his skin, and they ate quietly. After a while, Sansa noted that his breathing wasn’t as harsh as earlier, his chest settling into a more relaxed rhythm.

“I wonder if it was the weather,” Arya mused quietly, taking small bites of her bread. “He hasn’t ever seen a real winter.”

Sansa grinned, but shook her head. “I doubt it. Some of the others that got sick last week have been here for years. He may have just come into contact with one of them.”

“He certainly sees enough people every day,” Arya agreed.

Curious, Sansa asked, “Why do you say he’s never seen a true winter?” 

“He grew up in King’s Landing. It’s all he knew, before we got stuck in the Night’s Watch recruits.”

Sansa perked up. Arya almost never talked about her past – neither did she, really – but she would be lying if she hadn’t wondered how her sister and the blacksmith had formed their unlikely relationship.

“You were in the Night’s Watch recruits?”

“Yoren was going to bring me home, before he got killed,” Arya told her sadly. “Hid me as a boy among the group. Gendry’s master stuck him in as well. You know, he was the only one to figure out I was a girl.”

Sansa’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “And he didn’t say anything?”

Arya shook her head.

“That was good of him,” Sansa remarked.

“He’s a good person,” Arya replied softly, and though it was a simple phrase to some, Sansa knew how much weight the words carried for her and her sister.

“Why do you call him a bull?” 

Arya grinned. “He had this bull’s helm that he’d made in King’s Landing. He took it everywhere. Practically never parted ways with it, not until we lost it a while later in a fight. Plus, he’s quite as stubborn as I imagine a bull would be,” she added, and Sansa laughed softly.

After a while, she carefully ventured, “So you’ve known him for a long time, then?”

Arya nodded absently, strands of hair escaping her hasty braid. Sansa watched as she re-wet the cloth and wrung it out, gently placing it against his skin again. When Gendry shifted and mumbled her name, she flushed, but didn’t stop her motions, and Sansa hid her own grin.

Only after the sun had set, enclosing the room in darkness, did she break the silence again.

“You know I don’t care about titles and such anymore, right?”

When Arya was silent, Sansa pushed on. “I’m only saying, if you two ever … I don’t want you to think I’d care about something like that. I know he’s better to you than most noblemen ever were to me.”

Arya was silent for a long time. “Thank you,” she finally whispered gratefully.

“Gendry worries about it more than I do,” she admitted after a moment.

“Then I’ll be sure to mention it again to him,” Sansa answered promptly. She didn’t need any light to see her sister’s shy grin.

Through the night, Sansa slipped in and out of sleep. Every time she awoke, Arya was awake in the corner, her grey eyes wide open and her bottom lip between her teeth. Sometimes Gendry breathed better; other moments he was shaken by fits of coughing. The cough sounded less difficult as the night wore on, though Sansa hoped it wasn’t just wishful thinking.

She seemed to sleep for longer periods of time in the early morning hours, as the harsh sounds coming from Gendry subsided.

At the first few rays of sunlight, Sansa blinked and yawned, stretching her long limbs. Looking up, she was greeted by the sight of her sister’s small form curled around the blacksmith. At some point in the night, Arya had slid down so that her arms encircled his waist and her face pressed between his shoulder blades. His breaths seemed to follow hers, his chest rising and falling much more slowly, but steadily all the same. 

Sansa moved quietly, heaving herself up and escaping out the back before they awoke.

After changing and again swiping broth and cakes from the kitchen, Sansa made her way back to the forge, carefully placing an ear to the door. Arya’s voice filtered through, and there was definite movement. Sansa cleared her throat, pushing the door open and smiling at her younger sister, who was setting the pail aside.

Gendry was still on the cot, now upright and resting against the wall. His skin had lost the sickly palor, and while he appeared exhausted, Sansa happily noted he no longer shook with every breath.

She held out the broth to Arya, nodding towards Gendry, and muffled a laugh when Arya handed it directly to him, tartly adding, “I’m not going to feed you, as well.”

His grin was equal parts amused and adoring as he took the broth from her, before giving a grateful nod to Sansa.

He supped quietly as Arya shuffled about, until Sansa put her hands on her shoulders and set her down on the cot defiantly. With a pointed look at Gendry, she left the back room, closing the door behind her. Though, she couldn’t resist peeking through the slats just once, to make sure.

The red was back in her sister’s cheeks, but before she could say anything, Gendry tugged on her braid gently, causing her to turn to him. Whatever Arya saw in his face made her inch closer, until he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her fully against him. Laying his cheek against her hair, he said something Sansa couldn’t hear, but Arya relaxed, turning her face into his shoulder.

Sansa grinned, satisfied, and headed back to the castle to tell Jon and the maester to take their time in heading down to the forge.


	67. Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. A great big ball of fluff.

“Where the hell are you?” Jon’s voice filtered through the speaker with concern, and Gendry winced.

“I’m sorry,” he yelled at his phone, which was lying on the passenger seat. “I’m stuck in traffic by Oldtown.”

“Oldtown? What are you doing over there?”

Gendry thought quickly. “Mum needed me to pick up some stuff this morning.” 

“Well can you make it fast? Arya’s in a bad mood as it is, I need to get out of here.”

“I know,” Gendry muttered.

“What?”

“I said that sucks,” He said loudly, rushing on. “Look, I just need to get to Hollow Hill to catch the detour, and I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“I’m counting,” was all he heard before the line went dead, and he sighed in relief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eight minutes later, he pulled up to the curb, seeing Jon jump down from the front steps. 

“I’m sorry,” Gendry said again, but Jon waved him off.

“It’s fine. I got Ygritte to buy us some time.” Then he turned, sniffing the air. “Do I smell macadamia?”

Gendry stared. “Do all you Starks share a sense of smell with your hounds?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Your car smells like a bakery, anyone with a nose could tell you that. What I want to know is, do I smell macadamia?”

“You’re insane,” Gendry replied, hitting the gas.

“Because,” Jon went on as if he hadn’t heard, “You hate macadamia.”

“I do not _hate_ it,” he protested weakly, and Jon raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I dislike it very much. But you can settle down. I had to pick up some things for mum this morning, for some event at the inn, so there’s a ton of sweets in the trunk. I have no idea if they include macadamias or not.”

“Won’t they go bad if we’re at the presentation all day?”

Shit. Gendry reached around in his mind for an answer.

“Tobho!”He practically yelled. “Ah, she’s sending Tobho to pick them up later. He has a key.” 

Jon settled back, seemingly satisfied, and Gendry let out another breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gendry parked on the curb, leaning back with a yawn, and Jon got out immediately, stretching out his limbs. 

It had been a long day of presentations and not ruining good clothes and answering questions, but Gendry hoped it had ultimately gone well. Davos had seemed pleased, or at least highly entertained. 

Jon popped his head back in. “Want to come in for a bit?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

He made a show of stretching as Jon strolled into the house, then popped his trunk. The cookies seemed fine, if a little warm from being in the trunk all day. Wrapping them in a bag and holding the box under the blazer he’d borrowed from Jon, he made his way into the house. 

By a stroke of luck, Arya greeted him from the kitchen, yelling that Jon had gone upstairs to change. Gendry headed her way, happily finding her alone. He took in her messily braided hair and sweats as she looked up. 

“Hey you,” he said softly. 

Her answering smile was tired and somewhat apologetic. “Hi.” 

Gendry placed his package on the table and lifted her in a hug. “Feeling any better?”

“No,” Arya grumbled against his shoulder. “I hate being a girl.”

He chuckled, kissing her cheek, and set her down. “Maybe this will help. Though you might want to keep it away from Jon.”

She took the bag with a curious look, her face noticeably brightening when she saw the contents. “Macadamia cookies?” She looked up with a grin and he nodded.

Arya squinted further at the packaging. “From Oldtown Bakery? When did you even have the time?”

He shrugged. “I went before getting Jon today.”

Her eyes widened. “So that’s why you were late." He nodded. "And you kept them from him all day? Quite a feat.”

“You’re telling me,” Gendry grinned, pleased at her reaction.

Arya set the bag down and wound her arms around his waist. “You brought me cookies.” Her voice held a hint of wonder.

“I did.”

“Cookies that you hate.”

“I do not-” He gave up at the look on her face. “Fine. Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Gendry.”

“Arya.” He tweaked her nose. “You sounded pretty beat this morning. I didn’t like it.”

“It wasn’t personal. I was just angry with the male species in general.” 

“I know,” he laughed. “But I still didn’t like it.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, and leaned up to kiss him sweetly. Just as his tongue slipped past her lips, footsteps sounded on the stairs and he pulled away. Smiling at her pout, he leaned in to place a swift kiss at the corner of her mouth.

“Hide those,” he pointed, and she grinned.

“Gladly.”


	68. Sneaky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future-fic. Arya gets Gendry and Shireen to talk.

Gendry paused at the edge of the clearing, seeing Arya chatting with her younger brother, whose hand was wrapped firmly around Shireen’s. 

_His cousin._

He was still getting used to the word. It’d been so long since he’ed even dared to hope of ever having a family again. After Arya had entered his world and turned it on its head not once, but twice, Gendry was certain it would only be them from then on.

Then Stannis had succumbed to his wounds after the last great battle, taking his priestess with him, and Shireen and Davos had ventured to Winterfell. The Targaryens took the Iron Throne, with the help of the North, and in return they vowed to let Sansa reign over Winterfell, undisturbed by the games of King’s Landing.

Gendry had been overly pleased to see Davos again, and the older man seemed to find solace within the walls of Winterfell – not unlike many others, Gendry included. Sometimes he would come sit in the hot forge while Gendry worked, sharing old stories from Fleabottom with him and Arya. She would eagerly ask after his travels, wanting to know everything about everywhere all at once. Haltingly, Gendry coaxed her to reveal more about Braavos. Though she never openly talked about her training – something he and very few others knew about – Arya couldn’t hide the awe in her voice as she spoke about the city itself.

Shireen sometimes came with Davos, though he had seen her with Rickon more often than not lately. The wild young boy seemed somehow calmer, more at ease, when she was around. Gendry wished, not for the first time, that he was better with words, so that he could help her settle in. She’d taken to Arya, though, which made him quite happy. 

Now he watched as she spoke quietly with Arya and Rickon, a small smile on her face. Then Arya spied him and waved, and he emerged from the shade of the trees to greet them. Rickon had wanted to take Shireen on a tour of Winterfell, and he’d asked Arya to accompany them as well. Arya in turn had insisted Gendry join them, and here he was.

Shireen smiled at him shyly as always, though he practically saw her retreat inside herself, and he thought again that maybe he should find a reason to leave.

As they prepared to go, Arya suddenly clapped a hand to her forehead. “Rickon! We forgot about Sansa’s luncheon!”

“What?”

Arya smacked his shoulder. “All those noblemen from Dorne and Sunspear are coming. _Remember? _” She practically gritted out the last word, and Gendry was immediately suspicious.__

__Her younger brother was still baffled, but something in her expression made him nod his head vigorously anyways. “Oh yes. Of course.”_ _

__Arya turned to Shireen apologetically. “Sansa told us in no uncertain terms that we were to be there. ‘To save her from the fools who wanted her hand.’” The mocking tone was a nice touch, though Gendry wasn’t fooled one bit._ _

__“I understand,” the younger girl tried to wave her off. “We’ll go another time.”_ _

__“No, no,” Arya was already tugging at Rickon’s sleeve, practically dragging him off. “Gendry can show you around, he’s been there long enough. We’ll go save Sansa and then join up with you later.”_ _

__Gendry stared after her, open mouthed, before turning to Shireen and laughing sheepishly. “Not the most subtle of the bunch, that one.”_ _

__Shireen was startled into a grin, and he decided he may as well give it a go. “I don’t mind still showing you about, if you’d like. Though I don’t know too many places in the castle, I’m afraid.”_ _

__“Please, show me the places you like. I’ve seen enough castles,” she said, and he grinned again._ _

__Gendry started with the village square, where many of the townspeople gathered in the evenings after dinner, sitting and chatting and sometimes performing around a great bonfire. He and Arya had taken to going there also – neither of them liked staying inside the castle walls for too long. Judging by Shireen’s words, he thought she might enjoy the square also._ _

__Then he brought her to the practice courtyard._ _

__“You’ll probably be spending some time here, from what I hear,” Gendry grinned at her. “If Arya has her way. Which, she usually does.”_ _

__Shireen was gazing around in wonder. “She did say she’d teach me some basic steps.”_ _

__“Do you want to learn?” He was genuinely curious._ _

__Her hands knotted in the folds of her dress. “I know it’s not very ladylike, but yes, I truly do.”_ _

__Gendry raised an eyebrow. “Do I strike you as someone who cares what is ladylike?” He said, and she laughed outright._ _

__As they walked along, he couldn’t help but inquire, “Master Davos tells me you know how to read.”_ _

__“I do. I was tutored from a young age, before …” She trailed off, and he nodded. Then her eyes brightened again. “I’m teaching Davos.”_ _

__His mouth curved up. “I know. He mentions it constantly.”_ _

__She paused, then hesitantly asked, “Would you like to learn?”_ _

__Gendry looked at her in surprise, then shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m afraid I’m a bit hopeless with all that.”_ _

__“Nonsense,” Shireen said firmly, sounding so like Arya that he had to smile. “Anyone can learn if they truly want to. We’ll go slow.”_ _

__Though he thought it was a lost cause, he nodded anyways, simply happy that she seemed to be more comfortable around him._ _

__“Are you …” He trailed off, and she looked at him expectantly. “Did you find it weird, suddenly finding out you have a cousin?”_ _

__Shireen smiled knowingly, nodding. “It was odd, yes. But then I thought, how lucky I am to be gaining a family member when so many others have lost theirs.”_ _

__Gendry looked at her for such a long time that her expression dropped. “I’m sorry. Did I -?”_ _

__“No, no,” He smiled and held up a hand. “I was just thinking, I understand now why Arya’s taken so well to you. Well, not just Arya,” he amended with a grin, and Shireen looked down, though she was pleased._ _

__“Come on,” he let her off the hook. “One more spot I want to show you.”_ _

__Gendry took her to the godswood, feeling immediately when the air around him changed. As the breeze whispered through the tree boughs, he felt a sense of peace again, and looked around to see Shireen’s eyes closed in quiet bliss._ _

__A few minutes later, the sound of boots made them both turn, and Rickon and Arya were approaching, both siblings wearing identical grins._ _

__“I knew I’d find you here,” Arya teased. “He can’t stay away from this place,” she told Shireen._ _

__“I have my reasons,” Gendry murmured only so Arya could hear, and was rewarded with the flush on her cheeks._ _

__Shireen was still gazing about, oblivious to their exchange._ _

__“Come on,” Gendry tugged on Arya’s hand, leaving his cousin and Rickon behind._ _

__As they headed back to the forge, Gendry put an arm around Arya’s shoulders and leaned down, nipping at her ear gently. “You’re a sneaky one, m’lady.”_ _

__Though her breath hitched, she grinned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ser.”_ _


	69. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU - more high school-ish ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was mainly inspired by the song Check Yes, Juliet and its music video - by We The Kings.

Arya’s phone blinked with another text from Kel. This time it was a picture of the band setting up. The first had been a shot of the stage itself. She groaned in frustration, leaning back against the pillows with a huff. All she’d wanted was to go to the concert tonight. But instead she was stuck at home because they had guests. More guests that she didn’t know and probably would never meet again.

Sending Kel her reply ( _you lucky bitch_ ), she settled back, continuing to write her paper.

Then a small _plink_ sounded against the window, and Arya swiveled to find the source. Looking around curiously but seeing nothing, she shook her head and returned to her paper.

_Ping!_

This one was louder, and Arya’s head snapped up. Scrambling off her bed, she went to the window and her mouth dropped open. Gendry was standing in the yard, arm raised in the air to throw yet another rock. Seeing her in the window, he grinned and lowered his arm. Then he put his phone to his ear, and when her own cell rang, he gestured at her to answer.

Answering, she hissed, “What are you doing?”

“Hello to you too,” he greeted, amused.

“Hi. What are you doing?”Arya repeated.

“There’s a concert at The Wall. Thought you might like to go.” His smile was full of mischief.

Arya bit her lip. She _had_ wanted to go, very badly. Especially with Gendry, and he knew it. But her parents were right downstairs. Mum would have a fit. Dad … he would just look at her all disappointed, and she _hated_ that look.

“Arya,” Gendry’s soft voice jolted her out of her thoughts. He watched her carefully, then requested, “Will you come with me?” and she was unable to refuse.

“Give me two minutes,” she replied, grinning when his face lit up.

Pulling back from the window, she threw on a real shirt over her tank top and laced up her Converses, not bothering to change her shorts. As she was yanking her window up, wincing at every creak and cursing the old house yet again, a knock sounded at her door and she froze.

“Arya?” Sansa’s voice came through the door, and Arya knocked her head against the wall in frustration. Her sister would most surely tell on her.

When she didn’t answer, Sansa pushed the door open, stopping abruptly when she saw Arya’s position. 

“I’m going to the concert,” Arya said evenly. “Don’t try to stop me. I’ve been a perfect daughter all week with the damn Tyrells, but now I need out.”

The fact that her older sister didn’t immediately call out for their mom gave her a sliver of hope. Then Sansa walked over, firmly grabbing her wrist, and Arya protested, trying to get away.

“Sansa, stop it, I told you I’m going-“

“Shut up,” her sister whispered back. “Do you want the whole house to hear you?”

Arya was so surprised she stopped moving, letting Sansa pull her off the windowsill. Looking back outside, she saw Gendry’s concerned face.

“Sansa, wait. Please. Gendry’s outside.”

Sansa peered out, surprising both of them by holding up her index finger, mouthing “One minute” and pointing to the right, waving him to stand more in the shadows.

Her hand still firmly clamped over Arya’s, Sansa led her out of the room, closing the lights and door, and down the hall. When they entered Sansa’s room, Arya dug her heels in. “Sansa, what in seven hells-“

“My window’s closer to the drainpipe. The roof isn’t as steep here, so you can hold onto the ledge and get down more easily.” Then she grinned. “He’ll catch you.” 

Arya gazed at her sister in wonder and more than a little awe, and Sansa laughed. “Go on, then,” she gave her a shove.

At the window, Arya paused. “What will you tell mum and dad?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you. Just make sure you come back the same way,” she added. “You can stay with me.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Sansa looked at her steadily. “Because mum and dad are blind if they can’t see Gendry treats you far better than Joff ever was to me.” 

“Thank you,” Arya whispered gratefully, and her sister nodded, shooing her off with a wink.

“Go. Have fun.”

Arya eased out of the window, lowering it most of the way but leaving it cracked slightly. Sansa was right. The ledge was much flatter here, and with her small height, Arya was able to crouch and make her way carefully to the side of the house. Clutching the vines and brush around the drainpipe, she planted a foot carefully on one side, then the other.

“You’d better be ready to catch me,” she called quietly into the darkness, and was answered with Gendry’s chuckle.

“Yes, m’lady.”

“Stupid,” Arya grumbled, beginning to make her way down carefully. As she neared the end, she heard rustling below, and then Gendry appeared.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

She let go, feeling the air rush past before his strong arms surrounded her, holding her close and gently lowering her to the ground. Releasing a breath against his chest, she looked up giddily, and he leaned down to steal a kiss. She squealed when her feet left the ground again, and he laughed, kissing her again before setting her down. Then he took her hand and they took off running down the street, their shoes making hardly a sound on the pavement in the still night.


	70. Discovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a guest's comment on my modern au: "now I'm wondering if you're going to have Jon find out about the sexy times because I feel like his reaction would be epic."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't related to the modern au story's plot, but it was so much fun to write I had to post it somewhere :3 hope you enjoy.

Arya snuggled further into the blanket, pressing against Gendry’s very warm – and very unclothed – body. Then the knock sounded, and she mumbled, pushing at his chest.

“Go answer that.”

He barely moved, his arm only tightening around her. 

“Gendry.” She shoved harder.

He only hummed in response, rolling over and distracting her entirely with the feel of his body pressed against hers. Arya shifted, trying to push him off as the knocks grew louder, but only succeeded in rubbing her bare skin against his and letting out a soft moan. 

At that, Gendry stirred, raising his head to fit his lips to hers for a lazy kiss that had her arching off the bed. When his hands became more insistent, she nipped at his lips, completely forgetting why she’d woken him up.

The knock turned into an insistent beat, and Arya started, trying to move out from under him despite the wonderful things his hands were up to.

“Gendry. The door.”

“Hmm?” His mouth was busy against her collarbone.

She tugged at his hair until his dark, sleepy eyes met hers. Ignoring the rush of heat she felt, she turned his face towards the door. “Someone’s outside.”

He all but pouted, rolling off her with a groan and getting off the bed, his thick black hair sticking up in every direction as he stumbled around the room. Her eyes followed him unashamedly as he searched for pants, though she threw a pillow in his direction when he wiggled his eyebrows at her over his shoulder.

The grey sweatpants hung low at his hips as he turned in annoyance when the knocking started again. “Yeah yeah, I’m coming,” he muttered, and Arya grinned at his irritation.

“It is not even eight o’clock on a Saturday, so you better have a good reason for getting me out of bed,“ Gendry announced, swinging the door open.

His jaw dropped as Jon stared back in equal astonishment.

The room was utterly silent for a few moments before Arya uttered a startled laugh and dropped back against the pillows. A vein twitched in Jon’s forehead as he took in their state with wide eyes, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle any more giggles.

Gendry looked like he was seeing his life flash before his eyes. His jaw worked as he tried and failed to come up with anything to say, instead clearing his throat several times. Finally, he had the sense to close the door partway, blocking Arya from sight.

Now she couldn’t see Jon, and she bit her lip, hoping he wouldn’t explode right then and there.

“I’ll come back later,” was all she heard before heavy, hurried footsteps sounded on the stairs, and she couldn’t help the laughter that burst out of her again.

Gendry shut the door and looked at her, aghast. “How is this funny?”

“How is this _not_ funny?” She grinned as he sat on the bed, dropping his head into his hands. 

“This is not good.”

“Don’t be like that.” She tugged at his arm. “It’ll be alright.”

“Easy for you to say. _Your_ life isn’t going to end today.”

“Well if it was, I wouldn’t be just sitting there and moping,” she replied archly, and finally succeeded in pulling him onto the bed. Straddling his hips, Arya grinned slyly at him as her hand slipped under the waistband of his sweats. “I’d be making sure it was a day to remember.”


	71. Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gawd. modern au. inspired by this picture on my Tumblr dash: http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcr2vlyo5M1r4ueyro1_500.jpg

Arya settled down on the floor, picking up the controller as Gendry stuck the leftovers in the fridge. They’d just finished nearly an entire pizza themselves after Arya had kicked his ass in the video game yet again. She had the whole house to herself for several blissful hours, and she was planning to enjoy every minute of it.

“Ready for another round?” She called out.

“Absolutely.”

“You sound quite excited for someone who’s about to lose for the fourth time.”

“Big words from such a small person.”

“Doesn’t make them any less true.”

Gendry only laughed as he walked over, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before his hands closed around her waist. She squeaked as he gently picked her up and moved her forward, so she wasn’t resting against the front of the couch. Before she could ask what he was up to, he settled down behind her, long legs stretched out around hers.

Now her back was flush against his chest as his arms came around her, holding his own controller.

“Wh- What are you doing?” Arya cursed her voice for being shaky.

“Getting ready to lose, of course.” His warm breath on her shoulder nearly made her jump again, and she practically felt his smug grin. She swallowed, feeling his chin rest on her shoulder as she pressed “start”, entirely too aware of every point on her body that was pressed up against his.

_The bastard._ He was doing this on purpose, that was certain.

Arya tried to focus on the screen in front of her and not the warmth that was radiating off Gendry at her back. She most certainly was not thinking about his hands, which were capable of far more delicious things than just using the controller. Her character on-screen nearly drove off a bridge before she righted herself at the last second, but she felt Gendry’s chest rumble with a laugh all the same.

“Cheap shot,” she muttered.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he replied innocently, his stubble grazing her bare skin, and it was all she could do not to arch her neck in response. 

Gods help her, he was good at this.

She swallowed and focused on just getting through the round one piece, letting out a small sigh of relief when it was over. 

“Next?” Gendry asked, and she nodded.

When Arya shifted, trying to calm the ache between her thighs, she heard his sharp intake of breath and grinned. Two could play at this game. 

As the round started, she pressed back against him and was rewarded again by his arms tightening briefly around her. His hard length was apparent even through the layers of denim between them, and she smirked, knowing that she wasn’t the only one affected. 

She had no idea how she made it through the second round alive, only that her thoughts were no longer on the game at all. As the third round began, she squeezed her legs together, ignoring all pretense of modesty. Gendry seemed to be gripping his controller harder than necessary, though she wasn’t sure, because she’d stopped looking at his hands for more than a few seconds at a time.

This time when he chuckled against her neck, Arya let her own laugh escape and dropped her controller, turning and straddling his lap as her mouth attacked his. She vaguely registered the thud of his own controller against the carpet as his hands came up to hold her tightly, tracing patterns on her skin as he dragged her shirt up.

Arya twisted and pushed him down, following him to the floor so she could kiss him again. “That was a dirty trick,” she mumbled, feeling his lips curve against hers in an infuriating smirk.

“I think it worked out quite well,” he answered smugly in between kisses to her collarbone.

“Shut up.”

Gendry chuckled and flipped them, his lips dragging torturously slowly down her body and making her squirm. They laughed and teased and gasped against the carpet as the game went on, the controllers long forgotten on the floor. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A while later, they lay side by side, both trying not to laugh at the serious case of rug burn covering their knees. 

Gendry pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, wrapping an arm around her to bring her close. He motioned to her leg. “Sorry about that,” he said, even though he couldn’t hide his grin.

“I’m not,” Arya replied lazily, and he laughed outright.

Though his fingers were absently tracing over her skin, he reluctantly pointed out, “We'll have to move eventually.”

Arya shifted closer, throwing a leg over his and making it clear she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Your family will be home soon,” Gendry protested weakly. “If they see us like this, your parents will kill me. Actually, your brothers will get there first.”

“Don’t worry.” Arya grinned as she slid on top of him again. “I’ll protect you.”


	72. Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For starkwaters, who requested the following: "I'd be really interested to see Arya meeting Gendry as her "friend's hot older brother" rather than her "older brother's hot friend ... I was hoping if maybe you could write one where she meets Gendry, Edric's older brother, after school one day at their house or something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was different than what I expected to initially write, but I hope you like it! :) Also, yes I gave Edric a strange middle name but it was because my friend and I both blurted it out at the same time for no reason and it just kind of found its way into my story.

“Please, Arya,” Ned pleaded.

She shook her head firmly, her arms crossed in front of her chest defiantly. “No way.” 

“Come on. It’s one night. My parents are going to give me hell as it is, don’t you want to see that?”

“Of course. As your _friend,_ ” Arya practically growled, and he took a step back, raising his hands.

“I know, I know. It’s just …” Ned’s fright would have been comical in any other situation. But Arya was nowhere near laughing.

She glared at him. “It’s just what? Spit it out already.”

“I already told them you’d come.”

Arya closed her eyes and counted to ten. _I must not hit him. I must_ not _hit him._

Ned was practically cowering in front of her when she finally opened her eyes. Before she could talk, more words rushed out of his mouth.

“I’ll do your homework for a month. I’ll- I’ll cover for you in class. I’ll even take-“

Arya put her hand over his mouth to stop any more stupid ideas. “Shut up.” 

He closed his mouth immediately. They stood there for a moment, Arya not taking her hand away while she thought, trying to resist the urge to give him a good slap. _He bruises like a peach. Like a peach!_ She hated giving in, but she knew it would be worse if she didn’t show now. If there was one thing she understood, it was the nagging of parents that extended beyond high school. And she supposed, if anything, it would be entertaining to see his goody-two-shoes self get some heat from the folks. 

“I get to decide how you pay me back,” Arya finally said, and his eyes widened as he nodded fervently.

“I decide how long to extend your payback. No argument.” Another nod.

“And I reserve the right to add anything else to my terms.” Finally, she removed her hand and held it out. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Ned shook her hand gratefully. “Thank you, Arya. I mean it. I know you hate this stuff.”

She waved him off. “Don’t thank me yet. We still have to make it through the actual dinner.” Another thought hit her and she groaned. “Do I have to dress up?”

“Ah … well … see now …”

“Edric Bartholomew Dayne,” Arya warned, and he paled. It was a sign of how scared he was that he didn’t shush her for using his long-suffering middle name.

“It’s nothing too fancy, but most likely you’ll need a dress.”

“That _is_ too fancy,” she gritted out. “You owe me big time, Dayne.”

“I know.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arya arrived at the restaurant early. Sansa parked the car and turned to brush the hair from her face.

“You’ll do fine,” she laughed at the look on her face, squeezing her arm gently.

“Why didn’t he ask you? You’re way better at this than I am.”

Sansa cocked her head. “This is true. But I don’t really know him that well. It might have been harder to pull off.”

Arya raised an eyebrow. “Liar. _Anything_ would be better than me.” She tugged at her dark blue dress again. “Thanks for letting me borrow this.”

“I keep telling you to just keep it. It doesn’t fit me anymore and besides,” her sister grinned. “It looks better on you.”

Arya straightened and opened the car door. “Alright. I should get a move on.”

“Good luck,” Sansa called, and Arya waved back in thanks.

Carrying her heels in hand, she crossed the street slowly in her flip flops. She was going to prolong putting her feet into those things as long as possible. Lingering outside the restaurant, she checked her phone again. Ned would be texting when they were close. 

Sighing, she turned to find somewhere to wait and nearly crashed into another person. Strong arms latched onto hers, keeping her on her feet as she tried desperately not to fall and ruin Sansa’s dress.

“Jesus. I’m sorry,” a deep voice said, and Arya looked up into bright blue eyes. “Are you alright?”

Suddenly she was trying to work moisture back into her mouth. “I’m fine.”

“I nearly didn’t see you,” he grinned, and she stuck out her tongue automatically. His smile only widened, and Arya was suddenly very distracted.

Then her phone beeped and she belatedly realized she was still in the stranger’s arms. Pulling back, she dug in her bag for her phone. Ned and his parents were minutes away. Arya groaned and flung the phone back in her bag.

“Problem?” Her companion was still watching her.

“Yes,” she grumbled. “I have to get these bloody things onto my feet.” She waved the shoes in the air, and though he was far taller than her, he stepped back.

“Careful now,” he said teasingly. “You could take out an eye with those.”

“So you’d better help me then, hmm?” Arya arched an eyebrow and he grinned. Balls. Why couldn’t she be going to dinner with _him?_ No. Not dinner. There were plenty of better things to be doing with him.

Slipping out of her flip flops, she placed a hand on his shoulder as she leaned down to pull on the heels. His warm hand covered hers as she teetered, fiddling with the straps. When Arya finally straightened, she was miffed to see she still barely reached his shoulder. He was doing his best not to laugh, though it wasn’t going very well. She glared at him before shoving the flip flops into her huge bag (courtesy of Margaery, of course). 

“How do people do this every day?” She muttered to herself.

“Hell if I know,” he replied, and she looked at him again, startled. He grinned sheepishly, and now she properly took in his clothes. A black blazer covered his broad shoulders, over a crisp button-up shirt and battered jeans that couldn’t quite hide the grease stains. It made her smile.

Then Ned’s shout sounded behind her, and she turned to see him striding ahead of his parents.

“You guys made it!” He grinned, mouthing “thank you” to Arya quickly. To her surprise, he went straight for her companion for a big hug, and Arya met his equally startled blue eyes over Ned’s shoulder. 

“So you've already met, then?” Ned asked, and Arya simply looked at him in confusion.

The dark-haired one cut in for her. “We both just arrived.”

“Oh,” Ned smiled obliviously. “Arya, this is my older brother, Gendry. Gendry, meet Arya.”

Arya’s jaw dropped before she could help it. Gendry held out his hand, his surprise quickly becoming amusement. “Nice to meet you, Arya.”

She took his hand briefly. “You too … Gendry.” 

Turning back to Ned, she didn’t mince words. “How did I not know about your brother?”

“Step-brother, really,” Gendry cut in apologetically. “Same prick of a father.”

Now Ned took over. “It was a small town, so word traveled pretty fast. But our mums actually became friends, raised us together. Now I realize it’s quite strange, explaining it to someone.” 

Arya shook her head. “I’ve heard stranger,” she said, and they both grinned sheepishly.

“Anyways,” Ned finished. “Now he goes to uni in Oldtown but he’s looking to transfer up here. I figured we could show him around after dinner.”

Right. Dinner. Arya gulped, realizing what was about to happen and wanting to smack her forehead against the wall. Then his parents were greeting them, and she could only look on helplessly as Ned introduced her as his girlfriend. She smiled politely, trying to remember the things Sansa had told her earlier that day. But all she could think about was Ned’s far-too-attractive older brother standing beside her, and how much she wanted to tell him it wasn’t true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner was awkward, but it could have been far worse, Arya thought. Ned seemed to be doing well enough, though his parents certainly had countless questions for him. Gendry, on the other hand, seemed content to watch in quiet amusement, though Arya didn’t miss how he cut in now and then to help out his younger brother.

Now and then his eyes would flick to hers, and she’d look away hastily. It wouldn’t do to stare at her supposed boyfriend’s older brother. She hoped nobody was paying them too much attention though, or they’d see how her eyes kept returning to him anyways, and how he couldn’t seem to stop looking back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ned’s parents departed straight from the restaurant, having a long drive home. As soon as their car turned the corner, Arya dropped her bag and began untying her heel straps. She didn’t have to look up when a warm hand grasped her elbow gently, though she wondered if he realized just how much _he_ was throwing her off-balance. 

Then her shoes were off and she was sighing in relief. Pulling her flip flops back on, she glared at Ned. “You owe me.”

“I know.”

“Do you think they bought it?”

He nodded. “Definitely.”

“Good. You can tell them about our breakup next time they ask,” she muttered, and Gendry cleared his throat behind her.

“Am I missing something?” He asked in confusion.

Ned’s phone rang at that moment, and he reddened when he saw the caller. Arya rolled her eyes. “For the love of god, if that’s Mara you better answer it or I’ll do it for you,” she threatened, and he flipped open his phone hastily, walking a few feet away.

Arya turned to see Gendry looking at her curiously. 

“I’m not his girlfriend,” she said.

His eyebrows shot up so high, Arya was surprised they didn’t just lift off his forehead.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. He just wanted his folks off his back for a bit.”

Gendry was smiling again. “I see. That was nice of you.”

“Do me a favor and don’t let him forget it,” she said, and he chuckled in agreement.

“But yeah, this isn’t really my thing,” she gestured to her outfit. “The dress is my sister’s. So are the shoes. The bag is from a friend.”

Gendry grinned. “One of my mates loaned me the jacket,” he admitted, and Arya felt her mouth curve upwards.

“So we’re both pretenders then, huh?”

“Looks that way.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes alight, and Arya briefly wondered how rude it would be to leave Ned behind.

Gendry leaned closer, his voice low. “So I know now that you’re not Ned’s girlfriend … but are you anyone else’s girlfriend?”

Arya met his gaze, feeling a pleasant warmth spread throughout her body. She shook her head slowly.

“So if I were to ask you for coffee after this whole tour thing, would that be okay?”

“Can I change first?”

He laughed. “Is that a yes?”

Arya couldn’t help her own smile. “Yes.”


	73. Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Companion to Chapter 72, Favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments on the last one! Hope this lives up! :3

Gendry kept his word. After Arya and Ned had taken him around campus – somewhat exhaustively, in Arya’s opinion – Ned had left for a late-night meeting with Mara (upon persistent threats from Arya).

By this time, Gendry had removed his blazer and rolled up his shirtsleeves, and Arya was itching to get back into her jeans. As if he could sense her eagerness, Gendry grinned at her.

“So, shall we get you out of that dress now?”

Arya flushed. A moment later, he realized how that sounded and went beet red, his face panicked. “Jesus. I didn’t mean to- … I wouldn’t-“ He stammered, rather uncharacteristically, and they stared at each other open-mouthed for a few moments.

Then Arya grinned, and they were both laughing like teenagers again. When their amusement had subsided into embarrassed chuckles, she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Tempting as your offer is, I don’t think I know enough about you,” she grinned and turned, heading for her dorm.

Gendry caught up to her easily, murmuring, “We’ll just have to change that, then,” and she shivered. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sansa was asleep when Arya entered their room, so she left the lights off and changed as quietly as she could, grabbing the first shirt and jeans she could find. Feeling in the dark for her small crossbody bag, she winced as a book fell off her bed.

“Arya?” Sansa’s groggy whisper came from across the room.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“What time is it?”

“Late. Go back to sleep.”

Sansa yawned. “How was it?”

Arya couldn’t help her smile. “Not bad.”

“Where are you off to now?”

Finding her bag, Arya threw it over her shoulder and rested her arms on Sansa’s mattress for a moment. “Did you know Ned has an older brother?” She asked wickedly, and Sansa was suddenly more awake.

“What!”

Arya nodded her head at the window. “He's outside." Sansa immediately twisted, trying to peek through the blinds, and Arya grinned. "I’ll see you later.”

“Be careful. I want details in the morning,” her sister called after her, and Arya waved before closing the door.

As she went back downstairs, her phone beeped with a text from Sansa.

_He’s gorgeous!_

Muffling her laugh, she typed back a quick reply. _I know_.

She smiled at Gendry as she exited the dorm. “So. Ready to see the real campus now?”

He grinned. “I’ve been waiting all night.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arya took him to her favorite coffeeshop, which she knew from experience was open until extra late, specifically for students. She and Sansa had come here a lot in the beginning. Gendry bought her coffee before she could protest, handing it over with a smirk. She shook her head and added cream, making a face as he added only sugar.

“How can you drink that?”

“I could ask you the same,” he replied, purposely taking a large gulp.

She narrowed her eyes at his grin and headed out. It was a weeknight, so things were busy enough, but not annoyingly so. As they walked along, Arya showed him the good places to eat, the ones she and Ned and Sansa had all deemed worthy. She also pointed out the ones to avoid. 

“Ned was sick for days after that one. He still won’t even walk past it. Claims even the smell will get you.” She grinned. “Me and Sansa were fine, but the food wasn’t anything special.”

Gendry laughed. “I think I remember him moaning about that when I called once.”

Arya nodded. “Probably. He’s told anyone who will listen.”

“What’s that place?” Gendry pointed at a smaller building off to the side, and Arya smiled.

“One of my favorites. Come on.”

As they got nearby, Arya pulled out her keyring, her fingers automatically finding the bronze key.

“You need a key to this place?”

She nodded, opening the door and pushing him in before her. Flipping on the lights, she walked out to the middle of the floor.

“A studio?” 

“Yup. We use it for all sorts of things. See those blue mats in the corner? They’re for gymnastics, as well as fencing.” She waved her key. “That’s why you need a key. There’s a ton of equipment stored here.”

“What do you do?” He asked curiously.

“I fence. Started my first year and never stopped. Once you get into the last couple of years you become a trainer. I’m co-captain of the team now.” 

Gendry leaned back, impressed. “Arya Stark, fencing master.”

“Shut up.” She let him look around a bit longer before turning down the lights and locking up. As they stepped back on the path, he bumped his shoulder against hers. 

“Seriously, Arya. That’s really cool.”

She smiled, pleased. “Thanks. It’s a good distraction from everything else.”

He nodded in understanding.

“So. Where to now?”

Arya grinned as an idea struck her, and she grabbed his hand unthinkingly, pulling him along. Belatedly, she realized he seemed in no hurry to let go, and the thought warmed her to no end.

The stone building stood tall and strong nearly at the center of campus, its large brown doors and wide archways always reminding Arya of the castles they only read about in books.

“We call it Towers, though it’s got some old long name that’s listed in the books and maps,” she explained to Gendry. “It’s mostly a common room area on the first couple floors with some old offices for student activities. The rest of it is fairly unused.” 

Heading inside, she tugged him to the left, away from the center staircase. Instead, they went up the side stairwell.

“How many floors does this place have?” Gendry wondered as they climbed the stairs.

Arya grinned. “Tired already, old man?” 

His eyes blazed before he charged up the stairs after her and she laughed, breaking into a run for the last few floors. He caught her around the waist just as she was opening the top door, but whatever he had planned got lost when he looked past her. 

“Whoa.”

Arya smiled, tugging him onto the roof. “Best view in town, right here.”

“I’ll say,” he breathed. 

“You can see the whole campus from here, in all directions. It’s a nice place to just get away from it all.”

Gendry nodded, still speechless, and Arya happily soaked in his surprise. She took a seat on one side, feeling him drop next to her moments later.

“So,” his voice was teasing. “Do you bring all your dates up here?”

She shoved him, annoyed when he barely budged. “Stupid.”

“You know, you shouldn’t insult people that are bigger than you.”

Arya narrowed her eyes. “Then I wouldn’t get to insult anyone,” she replied, and he laughed loudly. Her own mouth twitched as she looked away.

More quietly, he asked, “Seriously. Who else knows about this place?”

“Not many people, I’d guess.” She picked at her clothes, not looking at him. “I haven’t really brought anyone up here before.”

Gendry tucked a stray hair behind her ear gently. “Why me?”

Arya shrugged. “Thought you might appreciate it.”

“I do,” he said sincerely, and she met his gaze over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

She nodded, biting her lip until she thought of another subject. “So why are you thinking of transferring?”

He let her change the topic without comment, and she was grateful for it.

“I was thinking of going here for grad school,” he explained. “I’m in my last year at Oldtown now, but all the classes are similar so I figured it could be a good trial run, to see if I liked things here. Plus, my mum got a new job nearby, so it’d be closer to her in case she needed anything.”

“You sound close,” Arya remarked quietly, and he nodded, a smile brightening his face.

“We are. It’s always been the two of us, really. Though Ned and his mum did help quite a bit,” he grinned, and Arya felt a smile pull at her own mouth.

“So what’d you think?” 

“Of what?”

She spread her hands. “All of this. Think you could see yourself here?”

Gendry looked at her for a long time before smiling softly. “Yeah, I think so,” he said, and Arya was suddenly grateful for the darkness as her cheeks became hot.

“Did you _really_ think I was Ned’s girlfriend?” She asked skeptically.

He chuckled. “I tend to take people at their word. No matter how unlikely it may seem,” he added with a cheeky grin, and Arya stuck her tongue out in response.

For a while they sat in silence, and Arya realized how few other people there were that could contentedly sit with her quietly, without needing to fill the space with inane conversation. It was pleasant and oddly comforting, and her thoughts began to wander. They were a couple of weeks into the summer term. So if he transferred here, it would most likely be for the fall. That would mean a little over two months until she saw him again. Arya didn’t hold onto any idea of him visiting before that, but it didn’t deter her. As long as she _did_ get to see him in two months, she could wait.

Eventually, Gendry stood with a groan, stretching his long limbs before offering a hand up. “I hate to cut this short, but I have a long drive back tomorrow.”

Arya nodded and let him pull her up. After a moment, he shifted his hand so that his fingers were woven firmly with hers, and Arya tried and failed to hide her smile. They took their time going downstairs and back to her place, their hands linked the entire way.

When they neared her front door, Gendry finally stopped and tugged her close. 

Arya let her hands rest lightly on his waist. “So what do you think? Did all this win you over?” 

“You certainly did,” he murmured, and she felt warm to the tips of her toes. His hands came up to cup her neck as he leaned down slowly. The first tentative brush of his lips against hers was too swift, and she rose on the balls of her feet to follow him back up, properly capturing his mouth. Now his hands were tangling in her hair, holding her to him tightly as she trailed her fingers up his back. He still tasted of the sweet coffee from earlier, and Arya absently noted she’d never look at caffeine the same way again. Though still somehow gentle, his mouth moved eagerly against hers as his tongue begged for entry, and her lips parted on a sigh. 

When Gendry finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers with a smile, and Arya tightened her grip, wondering if she could convince him to stay longer.

“It’s going to be a long two months,” she muttered, and his eyebrows rose.

“What?”

Arya flushed, realizing she’d been thinking out loud. His smile was only widening, and she hated how hot her cheeks felt. She tried to shrug it off and pull back, but his arms were locked firmly around her waist.

“It’s just … I guess it’ll be a while until you start classes, that’s all,” she said.

When his face became sheepish, she raised an eyebrow in question. “What?”

“Honest mistake,” he said. “I forgot to mention that if I transfer, I’d be starting quite soon.”

She stared. “How soon?”

He grinned guiltily. “Next week.”

Arya’s mouth dropped, and she smacked his chest, his shoulder, anything in reach. He laughed and grabbed her fists, easily holding them behind her back.

"How is that even possible?" She asked, incredulous.

His gaze snapped up from her lips. "I'm taking fewer courses, so I haven't missed a whole lot so far. As long as I keep up, the professors said they don't have any issue with it."

“Stupid,” she huffed. “How did you _forget_ to tell me that?”

“Well you’re very distracting, you know,” he murmured, and his voice was so low and his blue eyes so dark that she forgot her retort. Gendry kissed her again soundly, and though he released her arms, all she could do was wrap them around his neck to bring him closer.


	74. Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since Arya had her oogling moment in season 2, it's only fair that Gendry finally has his when she returns from Braavos. mixed TV/book canon & dialogue, because if D&D can then so can I.

Gendry didn’t know what he expected when she entered the common room, but it certainly wasn’t _that_. The familiar defiance on her face would have made him grin if his mouth hadn’t been hanging open like a fool.

Gone were the overly large tunic and leggings she’d shown up in a few days ago, and with them, his harebrained notion that she was still only his little friend from the past. The dress was bright green and dotted with acorns, fitting to her slender shoulders, curving over her breasts, and molding to her narrow waist before flaring out to her feet. Absently, he noted that she’d managed to keep her worn boots. 

He hadn’t realized until now how much her previous choice of clothing had been covering up. If he thought it was only her face that had changed, he knew now that he was sorely mistaken. 

As she neared him, her eyebrow raised in a challenge, he worked to close his mouth hastily, managing a weak smile at the last moment. To his chagrin, he caught a hint of a smug grin on her face, and he knew he hadn’t masked his reaction at all. She hit his shoulder lightly before sitting next to him on the bench, flipping her long braid over one shoulder.

Leaning over to dump extra berries on her plate, Gendry took in the smooth column of her neck, the sloping of her shoulders, the sharp angle of her jaw; things he could now see without her hair falling in the way. Arya ate quietly, keeping her answers short and lacking in detail. But she still grinned at the men’s raucous jokes, and smiled at Gendry for giving her berries, and he wondered at this person sitting before him, so familiar and new all at once.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the ale began to flow steadily among the men, Gendry saw her slip outside. Ignoring the offered drink, he pushed away from the table and followed. She stood a few feet away from the inn, arms crossed over her chest as she looked up at the sky.

He called her name softly, still unsure how to approach her. When she turned, he grasped for something to say, eventually settling on what he knew best.

“Want to see the forge?”

Though a corner of her mouth lifted in amusement, she agreed. The heat from the forge carried with it an easy familiarity, and Gendry watched Arya kick off her boots in relief before padding around barefoot.

“My mother used to say I had blacksmith’s hands,” she murmured. Her gaze was lost in thought as she examined his tools. “No good for sewing or lady’s work.”

“Those soft little things?” Gendry echoed his own words from years ago. “You sure they could hold a hammer?”

Arya stuck her tongue out at him and he chuckled. When she reached across him to pick up the tongs, he grasped her hand instead, turning her palm face up. 

“Not so soft anymore,” he commented, tracing over the callouses and scars on her fingers. He looked up to see her watching him steadily. “Maybe hammer isn’t out of the question after all,” he smiled and saw her face relax when she realized he wouldn’t push her. Instead, she flipped her hand and gripped his own fingers briefly before her gaze moved past him.

“Is that yours?”

Gendry looked at the warhammer resting against the wall. “It is.”

“They say King Robert used to wield a warhammer.” Her grey eyes examined him shrewdly, and he knew she hadn’t missed the conversations between the other men. Not everyone in the Brotherhood had been thrilled at his return.

“People say many things,” he replied instead.

“True.” She paused, chewing her bottom lip. “It suits you.”

Gendry was surprised but pleased, and he let it show on his face. “Thank you.”

He couldn’t help it when his gaze wandered down her body. “Look at you. You look like a proper little lady now.” He leaned closer, sniffing the air. “You even smell like one.”

Her punch was swift and expected, but it did little to stop his laughter.

“I look like an oak tree,” she huffed.

“A nice oak tree, though,” he remarked, and she colored. More than a little intrigued, he couldn’t help push her buttons a bit more.

“Better look out or all the forest animals will start to nest on you, m’lady.”

Arya shoved him hard, sending him to the dirt floor. But since he was still holding her hand, he had only to tug for her to fall on top of him. Whisps of hair were escaping her braid now, flying around her face as they wrestled on the floor. Gendry couldn’t remember laughing this much in a long time, and even Arya was struggling to stop her own grin. He rolled them over, trying to pin her hands, but as always, she was too quick for him. A knee to his side gave her enough momentum to push them back over, and now she sat atop him, smugly triumphant as her hands held his own down (though if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t protesting at all). 

“Yield,” she laughed, and he grinned, taking in her wild hair and torn dress.

“What kind of lady are you?” He replied with his own smile.

“The bad kind.”

“The best kind,” he whispered back.

She stared down at him, her eyes wide and bright. Belatedly, Gendry realized he wouldn’t be fast enough to stop her if she decided to run. But when her gazed drifted to his mouth, he knew that wouldn’t be the case. 

Her lips collided with his quickly, as if she had to rush for fear of changing her mind at the next instant. The kiss was fierce and eager, as if she was trying to learn his mouth all at once, and Gendry realized with a start it might be her first. He strained against her hold, needing – no, _wanting_ to cup her neck, her waist, to hold her to him. As soon as her hands slid up to grip his shoulders, his hands moved of their own accord, one sliding around her waist and the other cupping her neck as he sat up with her in his lap. He tilted his head, slanting his lips over hers and feeling her adjust instantly, her small hands gripping his hair as suddenly the kiss overwhelmed them both.

When Arya finally pulled back, Gendry traced a finger over her flushed cheeks and swollen lips, unable to help his smile.

“Still think I look like a lady?” She breathed.

He crushed his lips to hers in answer.


	75. Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this request by starkwaters: "There's a quote from the first book that says "One day [Arya] came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for father" and I would love to read one where Arya picks flowers for Gendry :)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this turned out quite differently than I expected (as usual)... hope you like it!

For once, Gendry heard her coming. Setting the newly finished steel into a bucket of water to cool, he turned to see Arya enter through the back of the forge. His face split into a grin as he took in her tangled hair and bare feet, her pale skin smudged with the brown of the forest floor.

In her hands, she clasped purple and green flowers that she now held out to him.

“Told you I’d find them,” she grinned in satisfaction at her accomplishment.

“I never doubted you,” he returned, placing a kiss on her nose before taking the flowers from her gently. 

As always, Gendry pulled out two stems – one holding a purple bloom and the other a green – and set them on a corner shelf for later. The others he split into two bunches, letting Arya tie each one with the twine he’d kept ready.

After bolting the front door, he turned to her. “Ready?”

She grinned and took one of the bundles from him, holding out her free hand. Wrapping his fingers around hers, he let her lead him out the back of the forge and through the trees he’d come to know so well. The bustle of Winterfell faded into the background as they reached the sanctity of the godswood, where only the pond rippled occasionally and the boughs did no more than sigh with the wind.

Striding past the great weirwood tree, they stepped carefully until they reached another pair of trees that stood close to each other, the large one’s bulk seeming to shelter the sapling. 

In front of each stood a sword, tall and proud, the blades buried in the soft earth. The sun’s rays glanced off the steel, the polished hilts gleaming as Arya and Gendry approached. Kneeling, they placed their bundle of flowers at the base of each sword before settling back on the grass, their hands wound together. Arya laid her head on his shoulder, her long hair brushing against his tunic.

“Hot Pie sent a raven,” she said.

“Oh? Finally learned, did he?” Gendry replied, grinning.

She chuckled. “Took him long enough. Says he might finally make it up here within the month.”

 _”Within the year is more like it,”_ came Yoren’s gruff voice on the wind, and Gendry laughed, feeling Arya’s lips curve into their own smile against his shoulder.

“He said he’d bring more wolf bread,” she added.

 _“Ha!”_ The breeze swirled as Lommy scoffed. _“As if he’d know a wolf from a donkey.”_

“Does he still think he’s coming to ‘Winterhell'?" Gendry wanted to know.

Arya looked up with a wry grin. “You know, the letter said Winterfell. I bet someone wrote it for him.”

 _“Probably,”_ came the wind’s chorus.

“We’ll bring him here, next time,” Arya promised. When Gendry chuckled, she amended, “or whenever he arrives, that is.”

Then she remembered the new arrivals, proceeding to tell Gendry about the tomato-like redness of Jon’s face when he was made to dance with several ladies. He replied with the inanity of certain requests he’d received at the forge, feeling the wind whisper with annoyance and laughter at their stories.

The afternoon sun shone strongly above the godswood as they continued to chat softly, teasing and debating and remembering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the voices on the wind thing came from a moment in the books when Arya hears her dad's voice on the wind.


	76. Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obviously, this came about during my own move (except I'm forever alone XD) HERE HAVE SOME FLUFF.

Gendry stood in the small living room, looking around at all the identical cardboard boxes with a wide smile. Some were marked with her messy scrawl in a vague attempt at organization, but most remained blank, their contents left to be discovered.

Then Ned called to him from downstairs, and Gendry snapped out of his daze, stepping over another box on his way out the door.

“Couldn’t you guys have picked a place without stairs?” His step-brother called from three landings below.

Gendry grinned. “My place has always had stairs, you knew that.”

The only answer was a disgruntled huff, followed by a thump as something hit the floor, and Gendry bit back a laugh as he rounded the last flight of steps.

“Stop being such a baby,” Arya passed Ned with another box in her hand, grinning at Gendry before heading up.

Gendry took one end of the TV stand, motioning for Ned to pick up the other end, and between them they slowly heaved it up the stairs. Thankfully, Arya hadn’t needed to bring her mattress, Gendry thought with another foolish grin.

“Hey!” Ned’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Focus, mate. One more flight.”

“Right. Sorry,” Gendry replied, not apologetic in the least. 

When they reached the top, Gendry clapped his younger brother on the shoulder, ushering him inside. “Sit.” He handed him a bottle of water. “Drink. Breathe.” 

Gendry went to look for Arya. Passing the bedroom, something caught his eye and he stopped, switching directions to take a closer look. Happily, he registered the sight of Arya’s pillow next to his on the bed, while a box labeled “clothes” sat on the floor by the closet. But he was focused on a small blue box that sat on his desk, wrapped carefully in bubble wrap.

His fingers brushed over the strip of masking tape on top, where his name was written in black Sharpie. 

Then Arya’s hands crept around his waist and he smiled. “Hey you.”

“Hi. Do you know Ned’s passed out on the couch?”

Gendry laughed. “Let him be. He’s been a big help.”

He felt her nod against his back before pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades, and he sighed contentedly.

“What are you thinking?” She asked after a few minutes.

“Honestly? I’m thinking I’d really like to know what’s in this box.”

Her grip loosened as she moved around him to see what he was looking at. Gendry watched as her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath, her cheeks turning pink.

“Shit. I forgot to put that away.”

“It’s got my name on it,” Gendry said rather dumbly, and she rolled her eyes.

“Yes, bravo for observing that,” she replied dryly.

Gendry raised his eyebrows. ““Well, since it has my name I must be allowed to open it, right?” He grinned cheekily and reached for the box, unsurprised when Arya’s quick hands snatched it away first.

She was so clearly uncomfortable that he fought down the urge to laugh, instead wrapping his arms around her, box and all. “Love, I’m just teasing. Put it away safely.”

Arya peered up at him through her lashes, her mouth quirked to one side in thought. Finally, she stepped back and held out the box to him. When he looked at her in surprise, she shrugged.

“We _are_ living together now. I suppose you should know what’s inside.”

He took the box from her gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Are you sure?”

When she nodded, he pressed a kiss to her hair and set the box back on his dresser, carefully peeling away the bubble wrap. Flicking the latch open, he glanced at Arya one more time to see her gnawing on her bottom lip.

“Arya, if you don’t want-“

“It’s alright,” she assured him with a small smile. “Go on.”

Gendry kissed her softly, lingering for a moment before turning back to the box and opening the lid. A variety of items lay inside, nestled amongst several small papers. Reaching in, his fingers grasped a familiar ticket stub.

“My very first concert,” Arya said quietly. “Thanks to you.”

Smiling at the memory, he placed it back carefully before pulling out … “A receipt?”

“Look closer.”

Gendry peered at the small script until he found the name. “The place we went to with Ned’s folks?”

She nodded. “First time we met. When I was unaware,” she grinned, “that you two were related.”

Gendry remembered. He’d thought, quite unfortunately, that she was dating Ned. His eyes roamed over the other contents of the box, noting the other now-familiar receipts and stubs that lay there, and his throat tightened. 

Then his gaze fell on a single earring, and he held it up curiously. Arya blushed. “When you met my parents at that fancy restaurant. And later, when we… ah …”

“That park,” Gendry murmured, and she nodded. 

“I never did find the other earring, so I just left it here.”

Now it was Gendry’s turn to be sheepish. “Actually, I may know where it is.”

“What?”

“I found it on the ground, after … and I sort of … kept it.” He grinned. “It’s not like you wear them every day.”

Arya’s mouth had dropped open, but all that came out was a startled laugh. Gendry hugged her close, gently dropping the earring inside the box and shutting the lid. He didn’t need to see anymore. “Thank you for letting me peek inside,” he whispered, and her arms tightened around his waist.

“Thank you for not laughing.” 

“Never. But can I ask one question?” She nodded against his chest. “What made you think to keep all those things?”

It was a while before Arya answered. “I suppose I just didn’t want to forget,” she said thoughtfully, and he pulled back to see her eyebrows drawn in thought. “At first I just kept the receipt, and then I wanted to keep the ticket stubs, and then … it just became _your_ box …” She shrugged, trailing off, and he smiled down at her.

“I’m flattered,” he whispered. “But I’m still keeping your earring.”

Her lips curved into a helpless grin. “Alright.”

Gendry leaned down to kiss her firmly, feeling her lips part under his with an easy familiarity. When he finally let go it was only to suck on her lower lip before nibbling across her jaw, and she let out a ragged breath as her hands curled into his shirt.

When a creak sounded from the living room, they both stilled, though Gendry kept his arms firmly around her. Then the sound of soft snoring reached their ears, and they both tried to stifle their laughter. Her grey eyes shining wickedly, Arya began pushing him backwards towards the bed. 

“How much do you think we can get away with before he wakes up?” 

Gendry grinned as he fell on the mattress, yanking Arya atop him. “Let’s find out.”


	77. Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The park scene referred to in Chapter 76, Move ;) Also kinda sorta killed two birds with one stone for the guest who requested Jon and Gendry not getting along but having to deal with it for Arya's sake (I can expand on it more later if you'd like :) ).

This was a disaster.

Gendry focused on the plate in front of him, praying that they might make it through dinner without any more questions. As it was, he was receiving glares from various ends of the table, and only Arya’s hand on his leg and her fierce stares in response had kept him from leaving early. Undeterred, her elder brothers continued to shoot glances at him, as they had been all night.

A week ago, Arya had shyly asked him to come to dinner with her family. Hastily, she had explained the fancy restaurant and dress code, and he could tell she fully expected him to say no. So he had said yes, watching as her face lit up in surprise and genuine happiness.

More than once, she’d asked if he was certain. At the time, he’d replied confidently. Now, he was starting to rethink the whole idea.

Maybe if it had been just her parents, he mused, it might not have been so bad. Her mother was certainly a tough one, but seemed to want the best for her daughter. He couldn’t dislike her for that. Her father even cracked a smile now and then, doing his best to keep the conversation light. And though Gendry suspected it was more for Arya’s sake than his, he was thankful for it.

But unfortunately, it wasn’t just them. No, her two older brothers and older sister had also come along. Sansa was a blessing, really. As Arya’s roommate, she’d met him almost immediately after they began dating and had never been anything but polite. 

But the brothers … they would be difficult. From the moment he’d shown up holding Arya’s hand, they’d been assessing him not unlike hunters would examine their prey. Arya had been defiant as ever, leading him past without barely a glance at them, but they wouldn’t be put off that easily. The night had been full of pointed remarks, despite Arya and Sansa’s best attempts to deflect conversation. All he wanted to do was kiss Arya and promise her he wasn’t going anywhere – he was almost positive her mind was spinning on all cylinders, imagining the worst-case scenarios.

After he had declined dessert, opting for a coffee, Gendry almost did kiss her to wipe the worry from her face. But then her dark-haired, ever-serious brother stood and asked him for a moment outside, and Gendry had little choice but to oblige. Steeling himself, he followed Jon out of the restaurant into the warm spring evening.

Jon paced for a few moments before turning to him in frustration. “That is my little sister.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” Gendry did his best not to retort, but he was getting quite sick of being poked and prodded all night like an invalid.

“And you … you are _my age_ ,” Jon again stated the obvious, running a hand through his hair.

“Again. I am aware,” Gendry replied evenly.

The other boy’s face was turning purple with the effort of not hitting him. At this point, Gendry thought he might actually welcome a punch instead of all the verbal slaps he’d been receiving all night.

“So what are you doing, then?”

Gendry stared in disbelief. “I’m sorry?”

“What are you doing with my little sister?”

“What am I …” Gendry nearly laughed at the absurdity of the question. “You do realize she’s a grown woman now, right?”

When Jon didn’t answer, he continued. “What I am doing is dating Arya. As I have been for months now.”

“You don’t actually think-”

“Look,” Gendry said firmly. “You can do whatever you want and say what you want, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m crazy about her, and unless she asks me to go, I’m staying.”

They stared at each other, each refusing to give in until a voice piped up behind Gendry, startling them both.

“Are you done?” 

Arya stood against the door, her arms crossed in front of her chest as she glared at Jon. Her gaze flitted to Gendry briefly before returning to Jon, and he wondered how much she had heard. She didn’t wait for an answer from either of them, instead taking Gendry’s hand and pulling him back inside.

As they made their way back to the tables, she laced her fingers with his, squeezing tightly. “Sorry,” came her whisper, and he brushed his lips against her hair briefly in reply.

The rest of the evening passed in blissful silence, with the occasional question from Sansa or the parents Stark, while the brothers glowered in their corner. Arya’s hand stayed pressed in his the whole time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gendry let out a breath when they were finally in the safety of his car, his head thunking back against the cushioned rest as his eyes closed. Arya’s cool fingers ran across his forehead, combing through his hair and lightly massaging his scalp. A minute later, he turned his head to brush a kiss against her wrist, opening his eyes to meet her concerned gaze.

“I’m fine,” he assured, albeit weakly, and she grinned.

“You’re an awful liar. But thank you for trying.” 

He smiled, shaking his head and starting the car. Arya put a hand on his arm as he backed out. “I don’t want to go back yet. Can we just drive for a while?”

“Think your brothers are going to follow us?”

“Shut up.” 

Gendry laughed and turned up the radio volume. They drove for some time, chatting quietly or simply listening to the music, letting themselves be distracted. Eventually, Gendry drove by a park for the third time and Arya held out a hand.

“Wait,” she requested. “Stop here.” 

As soon as he’d parked on the side of the road, she grinned and hopped out without explanation, throwing her heels in the back seat. Gendry only stopped to chuck his blazer with her heels before following. Arya stepped lightly, curling her toes into the sand before heading immediately for the swings, her navy dress floating around her in the breeze. When she sat down, her toes brushing the sand, Gendry snuck up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her back high as she yelped in surprise. Then he let go, laughing loudly at her squeal when the swing flew forward into the air.

“You suck,” Arya called breathlessly, sticking out her tongue. 

He grinned and sat on the swing next to her, long legs curled under him as he absently rocked back and forth. Watching her closely, he couldn’t miss that her face had taken on a thoughtful expression.

“What?”

She shook her head, still swinging. “Nothing.”

“Arya. You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The look where you want to tell me something, but you’re not sure if you should tell me.”

“I do not,” she protested. Then her eyes narrowed. “And you shouldn’t know that look yet.”

Gendry grinned, raising an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Arya sighed exaggeratedly, looking down as her swinging became a little less forceful, the tip of her toes dragging against the sand.

“I heard what you said to Jon.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Now she looked up, worrying her bottom lip. “Did you mean it?”

Gendry looked back at her, trying to gauge how to reply. He didn’t know why he bothered, though, because this was Arya and he would always tell her everything, regardless of how it might scare them both.

So he stood from his swing, coming to stand directly in her path. Arya’s eyes widened and she shifted, planting her feet on the sand to slow her momentum. Unconcerned, Gendry caught the swing as it neared, moving forward with it until he was standing between her legs, his own hands wrapped around hers on the chain links. He was so close he could smell a faint trace of lavender on her skin. 

He smiled down at her. “I meant every word.”

Her expression fluttered from uncertain to joyous to determined in the span of a few seconds, and he fought the urge not to laugh. Only Arya could have that many feelings at once. But she only nodded fiercely, whispering “Good,” before standing on her tip-toes just as he bent down, and their lips collided. 

Though Gendry tried to keep it soft and quick, he should have known Arya had other plans. Her tongue ran across his teeth immediately, eagerly gaining access to his mouth as she kissed him deeply, and he was lost. His hands left the chain to cup her face, freeing her own fingers to tug at his neatly tucked dress shirt until she could get to the skin underneath. With a groan, Gendry wrapped his arms around her, lifting her instinctively and stumbling forward until he felt grass instead of sand. She was laughing softly when he lowered her to the ground, both unmindful of their clothes. 

Then he dragged his mouth down her neck, pushing against the neckline of her dress, and her laughter hitched on a ragged breath as his hands snuck under the fabric, trailing up her smooth flesh to her wet center. Her back curved as she arched off the ground, as he’d known she would, and he grinned against her shoulder. 

Impatient as always, Arya tilted her hips while her hands busily unbuttoned his shirt, eventually half-clutching the fabric as he curled his fingers inside her warmth. It pleased him to no end to see her eyes become half-lidded and her head fall back, exposing her smooth throat to his wandering lips while his fingers continued to work at her. Somehow, she got his shirt open enough to run her nails along his back and torso, distracting him to no end. Then her clever fingers were fumbling with his belt as he slid her offending underwear off her legs and out of the way. 

When he was lowering himself to taste her at the source, Arya caught him off guard, twisting them to perch atop him with a smug grin. Then her pink lips were returning the favor, trailing down his torso as she held him captive on the ground. Her long hair fell around her, caressing his skin as she purposely moved at a torturously slow pace. Only when her tight little hands wrapped firmly around his suddenly free cock did Gendry move, out of sheer necessity to be inside her before he lost all control. Sitting up, he easily lifted Arya up and onto him, and she sank down willingly with a moan.

Her tight, wet heat nearly set him off then and there, and he was helpless to do much else but thrust up into her, burying his face into the crook of her neck. The only sounds in the still night air were Arya’s soft cries and his muffled groans, paired with the slap of their bodies coming together over and over. Then Arya’s voice rose an octave as she went over the edge, and he acutely felt her teethmarks on his shoulder before he followed.

They sat wrapped around each other, breathing heavily and trying not to laugh at their mussed state. Gendry rubbed his chin against her shoulder, feeling her squirm as his stubble grazed her skin. Then a glint of something on the ground caught his eyes, and he squinted past her to see a small earring lying on the ground.

Pulling back to study Arya, he noticed the same glint coming from only one ear and chuckled, tapping her ear gently. “I think you lost something, love.”

“What?” Still somewhat dazed, Arya reached up to tug at her earlobes, her mouth quirking to one side when she only felt one earring. Then she shrugged, her face breaking into a wicked grin. “It was worth it.”

Gendry laughed and kissed her again, winding his hands in her hair. When they finally broke apart, Arya clambered off him to find her missing underwear as Gendry fixed his own clothes. Seeing her distracted, he quickly snatched up the earring, tucking it away in his pocket with a foolish grin. 

They took their time getting back to campus, all the while picking leaves and twigs from their hair the rest of the night.


	78. Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, it seems I just can't stop with this verse! XD more Gendry-Jon stuff will come later, but I just couldn't get this out of my head, so right now have some more fluff :3 (in a linear timeline, this would be after Park, but much before Move).

Arya practically dragged him up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door behind them.

“Gendry-“

“Don’t.” He clenched his fists, doing his best not to punch the wall like he so wanted to. Instead, he only rubbed his face tiredly, sighing. “They’re never going to come around.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?” Gendry finally spun around to face her. “You saw them out there. I have been nothing but polite every time we’ve met, and I’m still treated like shit.”

Arya threw up her hands helplessly. “What do you want me to do? They’re my older brothers. They will always be protective.”

“No no no,” Gendry shook his head. “Robb is protective. This _thing_ with Jon,” he pointed at the door. “This is all sorts of wrong.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I’ve _tried_ talking to him?” Arya set her hands on her hips, her face twisted in frustration nearly equaling his own. 

“I know.” Gendry let out another breath. “I know.”

“Look, Dad likes you. So does Mum, even if she won’t say it. Jon will have to deal.” 

“So you’re telling me it doesn’t bother you the slightest bit that your favorite brother hates me.”

“He does not-“ Arya stopped when Gendry cocked an eyebrow. “Fine. Of course it bothers me, but since he’s the one being a boneheaded idiot here, I see no alternative.”

Gendry ran a hand through his hair and began pacing around the small room, distracted and irritated with the judgment that had been oozing through the house all day. He’d been by nearly every weekend now, only to be met with the same result. When he’d passed her for a third time, Arya stepped in his path, her arms snaking around his waist.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just thought that if you were around more, he would warm up to you.” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what else to do.” 

Hearing the weariness in her voice, Gendry hugged her close, leaning down to press his forehead to hers. It couldn’t be easy being stuck between your family and your boyfriend, he thought.

“What we’re going to do is keep trying,” he told her softly. “You’re right. He’ll have to learn to live with it.”

“What an idiot,” she muttered. “I never said he had to love you as much as I do. He just had to be courteous.”

Gendry stilled instantly, an odd buzzing filling his ears as he stared at her. “What did you say?” 

Arya’s brows knitted in confusion as she took in his expression. “What?”

His mind raced back over what she’d said, certain he hadn’t misheard, and a giddy joy bubbled up within him. “You love me?” 

Her eyes went wide as she retraced her words, and when she immediately backed up from him with a furious blush, Gendry felt a wide grin cross his face. “You _love_ me,” he breathed.

“No! I never said that …” Arya was shaking her head, but it did nothing to deter his elation as he moved towards her.

“Oh but I believe you did say just that,” he reminded her cheekily.

“No, no, I said Jon is an idiot and then-“ her voice cracked. “Then I just stopped talking!”

Gendry laughed. “You love me,” he said in a sing-song voice, and Arya bolted for the door.

For once, he was expecting it and caught her before her hand even reached the doorknob, tossing her over his shoulder caveman-style without a thought.

“Gendry!” Her yelp was full of outrage, but he knew it was only to cover her true thoughts.

Reaching her bed, he bent to lay her down, following immediately to cover her body with his and pin her to the mattress. His fingers tangled with hers, pressing into the soft pillow beside her head as he brushed his nose with hers teasingly.

“You love me,” he said again, and to his delight, her face flushed even more. 

“I do not,” she whispered, wriggling in vain underneath him.

“Liar.” He nipped at her bottom lip before looking at her fierce grey eyes again. “Well, I love you,” he smiled, and she stopped struggling.

“You do?”

Gendry chuckled. “And you call _me_ stupid,” he said.

Arya’s face broke into a shy, unbearably happy grin right before he kissed her, and he decided that her family was just going to have to get used to him.


	79. Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very, very, very AU in which Arya is a shapeshifter.

Gendry heard the wolf again, circling in the brush, but he kept his eyes low to the small fire. She was stubborn and would emerge only when ready. He had no intention of fighting it. Especially if it was really her. 

He’d nearly driven himself mad the past few days, trying to see the shadow he was certain had followed him on every trail. But he’d barely catch a glimpse, usually finding another completely different forest creature instead, and he’d be back to playing cat and mouse. He was certainly the mouse in this scenario.

One night he had woken with a start from his sleep. He didn’t pick when the nightmares hit (if he could, he’d make it so they didn’t occur at all). When he rolled over, trying to calm his breathing, he suddenly found himself completely still, in shock at the small wolf that was laying at the very edge of his makeshift camp. She – Gendry didn’t know how he knew with such certainty that it was a she - was fast asleep, head resting on her paws. Small, scrappy-looking thing, really – fur matted down and thin as if she hadn’t eaten in days. But something wouldn’t stop nagging him, something utterly familiar that demanded his attention. In his sleep-riddled state, though, it wouldn’t come to him.

So after the surprise passed, he let himself drift back to sleep. Waking up alone the next morning, he was filled with the knowledge somehow, that it was her. So the next night, he purposely ate only half his meal, leaving the rest as scraps on the ground. In his tired state, he couldn’t keep awake long enough to see if she took them. But to his satisfaction, the ground was empty the next morning, and he desperately hoped he was right about his hunch.

Now, he began to catch more than just flashes. A full tail here, a twitch of the ears there. She was definitely following him and no longer hiding it. So tonight he sat by his full fire, determinedly keeping his eyes on the small rabbit he was cooking instead of trying to find her in the brush. She was either restless or hurt – he couldn’t tell which. But she hadn’t stopped moving for a while now, as if having an argument with herself. The thought made him chuckle – she _would_ debate herself, in this condition no less.

A branch snapped, closer than he’d expected, making him jump despite himself. When he looked up, she was standing there with an expectant look on her face. If she could speak, she probably would have called him stupid.

Slowly, he held his hands up to show he was unarmed. Then he reached for the roasted rabbit, tearing off a chunk and lobbing it over to where she stood on all fours. She sniffed it carefully but otherwise didn’t make a move.

“Go on,” he urged quietly. Her ears pricked up slightly and then she sat with a thump, sinking her teeth into the meat. With a grin, Gendry tossed her some more before eating a bit himself. He chewed slowly, watching her as best he could without being too obvious. Aside from being far too thin for his liking, she seemed alright. But then he noticed the way she would lean to one side, favoring her back leg, and he thought about the extra cloth and medicine in his bag that Thoros had given him before he left. 

Gendry finished his own share slowly, deciding to keep the rest for her. By then, she was licking her paws absently, and he did his best not to laugh again. Instead, he reached slowly for his bag – the first movement either of them had made since the meal started. Though he kept his eyes down, he could feel her gaze on him, carefully following his movements. Purposely, he pulled out the jar of ointment and the scraps of cloth, leaving them on the ground before setting his bag aside. Finally meeting her grey eyes, he nodded at her leg. 

“Are you hurt?”

She didn’t give any hint of an answer, only stared back at him. So very gently, he picked up the medicine and cloth and stood. When she didn’t flee, he took a small step towards her. Then another. And another. Until he was right by her side, where he sat down again slowly. 

Gendry put a tentative hand out over her back leg, glancing over in silent question. Ever so slowly, he lowered his hand to brush against her soft fur, his fingers traveling over her leg to find the source of her pain. When a low keen escaped her in the silent night, he stopped abruptly.

“Alright, alright,” he whispered. “Easy.”

Keeping his touch as light as possible, he rubbed the ointment onto her leg. Gendry wished he’d asked Thoros more about it, but he’d been so anxious to just _go_ that it hadn’t crossed his mind. Winding the cloth around her leg over the medicine, he wrapped it as firmly as he dared. He had little experience with healing, but he hoped it would be enough until they could get to another town proper.

She was still watching him when he moved back to his spot, putting his things away and lying down on the ground. Too tired to do much else, he looked back at her until his eyelids drooped, and soon he was fast asleep. In the midst of the night, something made his eyes open. Turning, he looked over to see a small, human form curled up where the wolf had been earlier that night. Gendry blinked. She’d snuck a shirt from his bag, and it fell almost to her knees like a makeshift dress, with a small length of rope around her waist serving as a belt. Her left leg was still wrapped in his bandage.

Gendry smiled sleepily and let sleep take him once more. When he woke the next morning, both the wolf and his pack were gone. He sat up abruptly, his neck nearly snapping as he turned his head every which way, searching. 

“Damnit, Arya,” he groaned aloud. “Why do you always have to run?”

“Well good morning to you too,” her voice sounded loud and clear behind him, and he scrambled to his feet in surprise.

She was standing on her own two feet behind him, eyebrow cocked knowingly and a small grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. Her hair was longer than he remembered, spilling wildly over her shoulders. She was still wearing his shirt.

Gendry found himself without words, only able to grin foolishly as Arya stared back at him. With a shake of her head, she tossed his bag at him. “I just had to change the bandage.” She motioned at the fresh wrap on her leg. “I’ll need some boots. And pants, preferably.”

He nodded, finally managing to string together a sentence. “We should reach the next town in a day or so.”

“Good.” Arya brushed by him and then stopped abruptly. After a moment, she turned again, her expression oddly hesitant. “Thanks, for … “ she gestured to her leg. Gendry was so surprised he could only nod fervently in reply. Then her brows knitted in question. “How did you know?”

“What?”

“How did you know it was me?”

He grinned and took only a few steps before gathering her into a hug and lifting her off her feet, ignoring her squeak of surprise. “You little idiot. Think I could forget you that easy?” 

Arya huffed against his shoulder but hugged him back tightly nonetheless, and when her mutter of “Stupid,” came as expected, it was the best thing he’d heard in years. Gendry held on just a bit longer than he should have, but she didn’t seem to mind. Setting her down gently, careful of her leg, he asked his own question.

“Why’d you follow me?”

“You said you were going North, right?” 

He didn't hide his surprise. "You were there?"

"I was nearby." She paused. "I have better hearing ... in my other form." Then she grinned wryly. “Anyways, I figured _someone_ had to make sure you didn’t get lost.”

The laugh bubbled out of him unexpectedly. “And you’re the one for the job?”

“You always said you were hopeless with directions,” she reminded him, though her own mouth twitched.

“I did,” he agreed. “I still am. So you better not leave me again, huh?”

Arya’s face softened, just barely. “I don’t plan to,” she replied, rather quietly.

“Good.”

“Fine."

They stood staring at each other for a few moments longer before Arya rolled her eyes and turned to go. Gendry followed, still chuckling quietly. She was definitely back, his wild little she-wolf, and this time she was here to stay.


	80. Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU: Background - Ned was not beheaded, but exiled to the Wall after serving a year in the dungeons. Catelyn and Robb returned home to rule Winterfell. But on the day of Ned's sentencing, they could not find Arya. They were forced to leave the city anyways without her, and though they searched, could not find her. Arya gets thrown in with the Nights Watch recruits but she and Gendry escape Harrenhal, with the Brotherhood, etc, and she grows up with them until deciding she’s ready to return to Winterfell. He comes with her, and the story continues from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for The Boxer, who requested: "I noticed that it always seemed that Catelyn doesn't like Gendry/ thinks Gendry is scum . So I was wondering if you could write a Drabble where Cat adores Gendry and thinks Arya and Gendry are perfect for each other."
> 
> This turned out to not be modern, but another AU. Hope you still enjoy it, and thanks for the prompt! :)

Catelyn heard the yells through the thick stone walls of her chamber, and despite herself, her heart began to race, as it always did at the prospect of news. This time she could make out young Rickon’s voice in the halls - well, he wasn’t so young anymore, she thought wryly. But he would always be her baby, as they all would.

He barely paused to knock, barreling in the door not a second later, Tully blue eyes brighter than Catelyn could remember seeing in a long time.

“She’s back, mum. She’s back,” Rickon was laughing and tripping over himself as he grasped her forearms, and suddenly they were both rushing from the room, dashing down the steps in haste to the main chamber where Robb and Bran would receive the townspeople. Rickon flung open the large oak doors to reveal Robb’s face, frozen in shock as he stared at the two people before him. They both turned at the sudden sound, and Catelyn put a hand out to the wall to steady herself.

For this was her Arya, there was no doubt. Grey eyes gazed uncertainly back at her from an older, but not unfamiliar, face. Her body was no longer that of a child; long and lithe, her figure showed that clearly enough. But she still barely reached the shoulder of her large companion. Though both were dressed similarly in worn breeches, tunics and traveling cloak, it was plain as day that she had grown up. She’d transformed into the very lady she used to despise (not that she probably realized it), and Catelyn’s heart hurt at the thought she might have gone through it all without her own mother. 

But then, it didn’t seem as if she’d been entirely alone. No, the young man standing next to her - close, much closer than Arya normally ever allowed - didn’t seem as if he could keep his eyes from her for long. Though the way his blue pupils kept roaming the enormous hall made Catelyn certain he’d never seen a castle this close. But then they would return to her daughter, softening and smiling all at once like she was his anchor to everything, and it filled Catelyn with an unspeakable warmth.

She took all this in in under a minute, while Arya still stared back, studying her similarly. Catelyn took a few steps forward, not missing the small nudge Arya was given by her companion before she also moved closer. Catelyn stopped within arm’s reach, holding out a hand carefully to brush hair back from her daughter’s face as she once used to. Arya’s guarded expression slipped.

“Mum,” came her relieved whisper, and Catelyn took her into her arms, letting the tears come as she hugged her youngest daughter tightly, whispering all the things she had promised to tell her if she ever got the chance. Arya’s grip on her didn’t loosen for several minutes, and when she finally pulled back, she had to rub her face on her sleeve a few times before it was dry.

Catelyn couldn’t help but reach out to touch her long - hasty, always hasty - braid, now swung over one shoulder. 

“I thought you said you’d cut this first chance you got?” Catelyn teased lightly.

Arya smiled and shrugged.

“I did, once. But when it came back, it reminded me of you,” she said simply, and Catelyn pulled her close to kiss her forehead again.

Then Arya’s eyes widened as she remembered her companion, who was patiently watching her with a small, rather proud smile of his own. She waved him closer, and he ducked his head and approached, sinking onto a practiced knee.

“Lady Stark.” His voice was low and quiet, but somehow very honest. It was refreshing, after years spent in King’s Landing, where nearly every word was touched by some pretense.

Arya rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder. Apologetically, she turned back to Catelyn, who was starting to become very amused. “This is Gendry. We met on the road, after I escaped King’s Landing.”

That was a long time ago. Curious. Though Catelyn very much wanted to hear more of her story, she focused her attention back to Gendry. 

“It’s good to meet you,” she told him sincerely. “Thank you for looking after my daughter all these years.”

She practically felt Arya roll her eyes again.

“Likewise, Your Grace. But I think it was rather the other way around,” Gendry replied with a small grin, and Catelyn couldn’t help but smile widely.

“I do not doubt it,” she replied. “What’s your trade, Gendry?”

“Gendry’s a smith,” Arya interrupted. “The best for miles, and just as good as Mikken ever was.” 

“Arya, we do have a smith, you know,” Robb called from behind her, amusedly. 

“Gendry’s better,” she replied stubbornly, daring anyone to refute it. Gendry touched her elbow gently, shaking his head briefly when she turned to him. But before he could say anything, Rickon spoke up.

“Actually, he’s just an apprentice really. Could use some help, if you ask me.”

Catelyn could see Gendry was about to protest, so she interjected firmly, “If Arya says you do good work, then I believe her. You would be a great help to us.”

“So he can stay?” Arya was quieter than she expected.

“Of course,” Catelyn replied warmly. Her daughter’s face brightened immeasurably for the briefest of seconds before she managed to control her expression again. “Thank you,” she said, and Catelyn didn’t miss the gratitude in her voice.

Then Sansa appeared in the doorway, no doubt fetched by Rickon's yelling, and suddenly Arya was enfolded in her arms, barely visible amongst the blue fabric of her wide sleeves and skirt. Sansa was crying and laughing all at once, and when Catelyn did get a glimpse of her face, she saw Arya couldn’t stop smiling either.

Looking at Gendry, she saw his face drawn in a tender smile as he watched their reunion. But Catelyn didn’t miss the flash of longing in his eyes, and she wondered if he had ever known a true family. So when they crowded for dinner, she didn’t hesitate in dragging Gendry in with them, setting a place next to Arya. Her daughter was clearly surprised by her actions - not that she could blame her, really, after how she’d acted towards Jon. Still, Arya remained silent, only nodding in brief thanks.

They spent a long time eating and talking, though Catelyn noticed Arya did more listening than anyone else there. She seemed content to listen to their stories, only offering up her own, shorter anecdotes when prodded. But then she would laugh at something Gendry said, or hit him for one reason or another, or fling food at him when she thought nobody was looking, and in those small moments Catelyn found her little girl again.

That night, she and Sansa stayed awake for a while with Arya in her old room, talking and reminiscing and catching her up on the latest news from The Wall. When Arya’s yawns began in earnest, Catelyn ushered Sansa out, closing the door behind her. 

Hours later, after most of the castle and town had fallen asleep, Catelyn awoke in the dark. Unable to stop the urge to check on Arya, she padded down the hallway, easing Arya’s door open as quietly as possible. 

Her heart stopped.

Arya’s sheets lay neatly made on the bed, untouched since she’d put them there earlier that evening. Feeling the panic rise, Catelyn made herself think logically. Looking around, she saw Arya’s small rucksack still on the floor, along with her belt. 

So she was still here, then. And most likely not far. Playing a hunch, Catelyn closed the door quietly again and took the stairs down to the bottom-most floor. Quiet voices sounded from the front steps, and she walked over quietly, pausing before peeking around the stone pillar.

Light from the half-moon spilled onto the open courtyard as two figures sat on the steps. Catelyn immediately recognized Arya’s small form curled up against a larger bulk - Gendry, no doubt. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder as they talked, and Catelyn got the impression this wasn’t the first time they had done this.

“So what do you think?” Arya was asking.

“About what?”

“Winterfell.”

There was silence as he thought a moment. “I like it. These are hardworking folk. It feels …” he struggled momentarily, then exhaled. “It feels right.” 

Catelyn smiled. It was a common sentiment among those who lived here. Arya had chosen well. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” came her daughter’s murmur. 

“You seem surprised.” Gendry had picked up on the awe in her voice. He knew her daughter much better than either of them would admit.

“I guess I am,” Arya replied thoughtfully. “I just didn’t know if it would feel the same, after all these years. _I’m_ certainly not the same.”

Gendry nudged her. “You always said the North was special. A special lady deserves a special place,” he teased, and seemed practically satisfied when she smacked him.

“Stupid,” she huffed, and he laughed softly, pulling her close again. 

“You really think they’ll let me work in the forge?” He asked after a moment, and Catelyn heard the wonder that filled his voice.

“It’ll be _your_ forge when I’m done,” Arya promised stubbornly, and Catelyn smiled to herself. 

“Arya,” he sighed. “They aren’t about to let a bastard boy run his own smithy.”

“And why not?” She demanded back, just as fiercely. “You're a better man than every noble in King's Landing. Besides, nobody cares about your parentage here, Gendry. I’ll vouch for you, and that will be enough for mother and Robb. You’ll see.”

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured gently, placing a kiss against her hair. When Arya turned her face up to his, Catelyn decided she’d seen enough. Easing back into the darkness of the castle, she returned to her chambers with a smile on her face. 

Her daughter had certainly changed, but Gendry seemed to find a way to bring out the old Arya - whether intentional or not - and for that, Catelyn was grateful. He would have his forge, and Arya, and they would remain in Winterfell as long as they pleased. It was the very least she could do.


	81. Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for my partner in crime, SapphireBlueJiyuu ;)

Sansa looked up as the front door opened, seeing her sister’s back as she waved once before closing the door. Her hair was tumbling loose and wild over her shoulders - a rare sight, since Arya was almost never without a hairtie. When she turned, resting her back against the door, there was a small, unguarded grin on her face, and her grey eyes were bright with mischief. The sight made Sansa close her book momentarily. These days, it was rare that she ever saw her sister so open.

As if on cue, Arya noticed her gaze and schooled her expression within seconds. “Hey.” 

“Hi. How was the movie?” 

Unexpectedly, her sister flushed. As a crimson wave bloomed in her cheeks, she slowly unzipped her hoodie and kicked off her shoes, steadily not looking up. “It was fine,” she said finally.

 _Yeah, right._ “That’s it? Just fine?” 

Arya shrugged, heading for the kitchen. Sansa placed her book on the table and followed, far too curious to give up now. Her sister had one leg perched on the counter and the other on a chair as she reached for a box of Goldfish, and Sansa noticed both her wrists were bare, absent of the black hairties that usually accompanied her everywhere. That was even more odd. And Arya had definitely left the house with a braid … she specifically remembered seeing Gendry tug on it in jest as they walked to his beat-up car. Now, she could see her sister’s hair was in loose, tangled snarls.

Sansa was starting to get a picture of what might have happened, but decided she wanted to have some fun.

“Well, what did you guys see?” 

Arya paused for the briefest second before her fingertips brushed against the box and she succeeded in pulling it down. Hopping lightly off the chair, she pushed her hair over her shoulder in annoyance. 

“You know, that movie that came out last week, with- with that girl and … the thing.”

Sansa crossed her arms, fighting the urge to laugh. “Very descriptive.” When Arya tossed a glare her way, she glared right back. “Arya, like five movies came out just yesterday. I need more than that.” 

“Why do you care so much?” Her sister squinted at her warily.

“Because it’s my turn to choose the movie this week, and Willas keeps on asking. You know he always wants to know ahead of time.” It wasn’t _entirely_ a lie.

“So? What are the chances you’d actually like a movie _I_ chose?”

“What if I’m asking so that I know which movie to avoid?” Sansa grinned, ducking as Arya flung a few of the small cheese crackers at her. But her sister was grinning, too, before she ducked her head into the fridge.

“Fine,” she groaned in exaggeration, though it was muffled by the hum of the refridgerator. “We saw the one with the Harry Potter girl who steals things.” 

Sansa looked at her in confusion. “You know the Harry Potter movies are finished, right?”

She could practically feel Arya roll her eyes, even though she couldn’t see her face. “ _Yes,_ I’m well aware,” her sister drawled. “I meant, the girl from Harry Potter whose name I don’t know, now in a movie about girls who steal from famous people.”

“Oh! The Bling Ring?” Sansa bit her lip as soon as she said it, knowing she’d given Arya the answer, just like she wanted. _Nice save, sis._

Just then, there was a knock on the front door, and they both turned towards the sound. Sansa headed down the hall, checking the peephole and smiling craftily as she saw mussed black hair and blue eyes. 

“Gendry!” She said loudly, and flung the door open, covering her laugh as she heard the fridge door snap shut behind her. He was looking at her in surprise, clearly not expecting the warm welcome. His thick hair was disheveled and standing up in all directions, though it was obvious he’d tried (and failed) to smooth it down. But her biggest clue came when he raised a hand in greeting before rubbing his neck sheepishly, asking for Arya, and Sansa caught the beginnings of a hickey forming just inside his shirt collar.

“It’s nice to see you,” Sansa tried not to smile too widely. “Come on in, we’re in the kitchen.” She said the last part extra-loudly.

Polite as ever, Gendry said a quiet hello to her as they walked through the house. When they reached the kitchen, he nodded in answer to her question before directing a soft smile at Arya, who moved closer to greet him. Sansa headed for the counter, but not before noting that his shirt was definitely buttoned askew, with the left tail of his shirt hanging slightly longer than the right. 

“Hey,” Arya’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. “What’s up?”

“Missed you already,” Gendry grinned when she hit his shoulder, her face brilliantly red. “And, you forgot something,” he murmured, taking her hand.

Glancing at them sidelong, Sansa saw him slip a black elastic band over her wrist, tweaking her nose with a gentle laugh when her blush only deepened. Turning her back completely, Sansa wandered to the cupboard, doing her best not to do her own little victory jig.

With a sly grin, she poured some juice and faced them. “So I was just asking Arya how the movies were,” she mentioned, looking straight at Gendry.

He was a much better actor than she’d given him credit for. Aside from a slight redness in his ears, he barely blinked at her question, only smiling and throwing an arm around Arya’s shoulders. “It was great. We saw Fast & Furious 6. Though, I dunno if you would like it that much.” 

Arya had closed her eyes the moment she heard Sansa’s question, knowing she was done for. Now, her gaze was wide open and pleading with Sansa to keep quiet. She considered for a moment, taking a long sip of her drink before grinning back.

“You’re right, I probably wouldn’t. But I’m glad you guys had fun.” 

Arya sighed gratefully before starting to push Gendry out of the kitchen. “You probably have to head back, right? I’ll walk you to the car.” 

Gendry waved in farewell, amusedly letting her push him backwards. As soon as the door shut, Sansa laughed to herself long and hard, deciding she would most definitely be having some fun with Arya for a few days. Well, at least until her sister found something to hold over her in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure those movies weren't out at the same time, but oh well. XD


	82. Detention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU mashup influenced by The O.C/Gilmore Girls/Gossip Girl. Oneshot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. I'm just in a mood for all of these shows...so this happened. Also, this is my contribution to "Arya as a dancer" because all the gifs/photosets of AU's on Tumblr finally got to me :3 Hope you enjoy!

“For god’s sake, Waters, don’t slouch.” Her tiny hand connected with his back, the flat of her palm pushing against his spine until he straightened. “Arms up, shoulders back. _Back,_ ” she hissed.

“I'm twice your size," he protested. "How are you ever going to keep your arms up here if I stand straight?” 

Grey eyes flashed back at him before Arya turned around, digging in her duffel bag. Whipping back around, she pointedly held out a pair of sleek black pumps. 

Gendry gulped. “Oh,” was all he said, hoping she wouldn’t use the thin, razor-like heel to stab him.

Arya rolled her eyes, kicking off her flats and bending to pull on the heels. He didn’t miss her slight wince of pain as she stood up straight again. But then it was gone, replaced by smugness as he found her suddenly level with his shoulder. 

“Arms up,” she instructed again, and he raised his arms the way she’d told him to, knowing she would adjust his stance anyways. True to form, she was already reaching up, pushing his arms this way and that until she was satisfied. Then she stepped forward, bringing her arms to cover his, and one of his hands settled high on her back between her shoulder blades.

The couples around them were already in position, and considerably happier to be there than either of them. _There_ happened to be the inner hall of the Riverrun Country Club, where they were preparing for their first dance lesson. Only a school like Galston Academy would consider _this_ detention, Gendry thought sourly. Though admittedly, if he’d had a choice in the matter, he never would have picked this as his punishment. This… this was infinitely worse. 

Not only were they being forced to take part in these lessons, but they were expected to then show the results of their dedication at something called a cotillion. Gendry didn’t even know what the hell that was. But both his and Arya’s faces had immediately twisted when the word was spoken. His, in confusion, and hers, in disgust. 

A huff from Arya brought him back to the present. Her eyes were narrowed as she waited for futher instructions, and he wondered if her arms would tire of reaching up, even with her heels. Then he wondered why he even cared. 

Her hastily pinned hair was already falling across her face in a soft fringe, the rest of her chestnut curls pulled back into an equally messy ponytail. She was in the outfit he almost always remembered seeing her in - a simple black tank top, black leggings, and a short, flowy grey skirt that moved with her. He’d nearly laughed when she walked into the room, radiating defiance as she moved between the other considerably more well-dressed youths to make her way to him.

He’d felt similarly out of the loop, in a tee shirt and jeans. But then, he usually did, at a school like Galston. A partial scholarship and job at the local diner only did so much. Not that any of these kids would understand. 

Someone clapped their hands behind him, and his head swiveled to find the source. A petite lady stood in the middle of the floor, looking expectantly at everyone. In a soft, calm voice that somehow still reached the whole room, she explained the basics of the dance, and the first few steps that they would practice today.

Gendry didn’t understand a whole lot of it. When she had finished, he faced Arya again, just catching the smirk on her face before it vanished. 

“Got all that?” She asked dryly.

“Of course. Plus, I’ve got you to set me straight,” he replied.

She rolled her eyes, though he thought maybe her mouth was threatening to curl up in spite of herself. Without warning, she started to move, and he rushed to move with her, focusing on making sure his huge feet didn’t crush hers. There was silence as they both adjusted to the new steps. Then Gendry realized that Arya was also concentrating quite hard, and he nearly stopped.

She caught herself and glared at him. “What?”

“Aren’t you a dancer?” She started slightly, taken aback. He hurried to correct himself. “I mean, I know you’re a dancer, of course, I’ve seen you dance all the time.” _Excellent, Waters. That’s not creepy at all._ “I just thought you’d already know all this,” he finished lamely.

Arya raised an eyebrow, as if she couldn’t decide whether she was offended or amused. But all she said was, “Well, I don’t.” 

Feeling like an idiot, he nodded and kept his mouth shut, focusing on his feet again. A few minutes later, he was startled by her quiet voice.

“I prefer jazz and hip-hop. I like the freedom, the variety. This feels much more… restricted.” She was still looking down. 

Gendry searched for something to say, finally settling on the truth. “Well, you’re very good. Better than good.” 

When Arya glanced up in silent question, he tried to shrug it off. “I saw you at the showcase last year. And sometimes in practice, and stuff.” She was nothing short of amazing, throwing herself into every routine with all she had. There was a barely contained wildness about her movements, and yet an understated grace, as well. It had been hard to take his eyes off her. 

Now, she cocked her head, not saying anything, and he felt the need to explain himself. 

“My cousin wants to try out for the team when she starts next year. She’s been taking lessons ever since she saw a performance when she was ten. I’m the one who usually takes her to practices and shows.”

To his surprise, a smile crossed Arya’s face. “What’s her name?”

“Shireen.” 

“Well, you tell Shireen to come see me next year, you hear?” 

“Seriously?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“No, I know that,” he said. “I… well... thank you. She’ll go nuts when I tell her.” 

Arya nodded, still smiling faintly. He was so preoccupied by it that he didn’t notice that he was moving forward at the same time as her. They collided, his heavy sneaker descending on her toes. She gasped and stopped in pain.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He grasped her shoulders, unsure of what else to do.

She took a deep breath and shook her head, trying to shake it off. “It’s fine,” she said briskly. He felt awful.

“Way to go, Waters,” a voice sneered behind him.

Fuck. Gendry closed his eyes briefly. Of all people… 

He turned to see Joffrey’s smug grin. Before he could open his mouth, though, Arya beat him to it.

“Fuck off, Joffrey.” 

The other boy’s face twisted in outrage. “You little-”

“I’d think carefully about your choice of words,” Gendry interrupted, standing in front of Arya. “Or you might get another shiner to match the one I gave you on Thursday.” 

Joffrey shrank back immediately. The little cowardly shit. 

“Someone did a nice job of covering up that bruise,” Gendry remarked, allowing himself a a slight grin. “Is that makeup you’re wearing?” 

“Probably his mother’s,” Arya added helpfully. 

Joffrey was sputtering, his eyes wide. It was almost comical, really. Then their instructor was stepping smoothly in between, her perfectly tweezed eyebrows raised in question.

“Is there a problem here?”

Gendry felt Arya’s hand tug him back. “Not at all,” she said smoothly. “We were just admiring their technique. Right, Gendry?”

He nodded, turning his back to the instructor and obediently lifting his arms again. As expected, Arya adjusted them again, though with considerably fewer pokes than earlier. Then she stepped into his grip and they began moving again, haltingly. 

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” 

He looked up in surprise. Arya was staring adamantly back at him. “You didn’t have to do that,” she repeated.

“He shouldn’t get a free pass,” he argued. “I don’t care what his last name is. Besides, nothing happened, anyways.”

“I didn’t mean just now. On Thursday,” she said. He blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. “I agree that he needs to learn a lesson. But you have a scholarship to keep, too.”

Now Gendry completely stopped in his tracks. “How do you know that?”

She shrugged. “I’m not an idiot. I see you biking from class to the diner all the time. You study more than anyone else I’ve seen. Plus, you’re not like the others.” 

Arya said it in a way that, for once, didn’t make him miserable. “How so?”

“You take your cousin to dance practice,” she said simply, as if it explained everything.

Gendry wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he kept quiet.

“And besides, nobody stands up to Joffrey,” she added as an afterthought.

“You did,” he pointed out.

“I guess. But I didn’t punch him.”

“You wanted to.” 

This time, she couldn’t help her grin.

Then her expression grew serious again. “I mean it, though. You can’t just stick your neck out like that all the time. You’re lucky you weren’t suspended.”

“If I had my way, I wouldn’t even be at this school. But mum wants me here, and she’s worked so hard to give me the chance…,” Gendry trailed off, unsure of why he was even telling her this. But Arya was already nodding.

“That just proves my point. Whether you want to be here or not, you are now. Don’t waste it on someone as worthless as Joffrey,” she said fiercely. 

He stared at her for a few moments before breaking into a smile. “My mum would like you,” he said.

To his shock and utter delight, Arya blushed. 

When someone cleared their throat behind him, he realized they had stopped moving. Slowly, they began going through the motions again, and Gendry focused on not stepping on her feet. Arya had recovered easily, but the image of her pink cheeks was already tucked away inside his mind. So he held her a little bit closer.

After some time, he looked up at the clock and saw that only an hour had passed. “Jesus,” he muttered.

Arya lifted her head to follow his gaze, letting out a small sigh herself when she caught sight of the time. Absently, his eyes wandered along the smooth column of her neck, to the dip by her collarbone. Then she faced him again, her face considerably more drawn than before. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Ninety-six minutes to go,” he said, falsely cheerful. Then, when her expression didn’t change, he asked something he’d been wondering the whole time. “So how did you end up here?”

Now she looked up. “What?”

“How did you get detention? You were barely involved in the whole thing.”

“Oh.” She rolled her eyes. “My dear mother thought I could learn ‘a valuable lesson’ from this. She thinks I said something to Joffrey to rile him up. As in, if I had just shut up, none of this would have happened.” 

Arya bared her teeth rather wolfishly. “Not that I’m particularly sorry that it did. I only wish you’d have gone for his nose.” 

Good lord. She was perfect.

Gendry tried to shrug casually. “I did what I could, given the options.” 

“Fair enough.” Her grin faded. “Anyways, mum convinced the Board that this was the best option to build character. She insisted I agree, or I wouldn’t be allowed to continue my other dance lessons for a month. I would have missed the fall showcase.”

“That’s quite harsh,” he commented.

“That’s mum. She’s being trying to get me to do this for years now.”

Now Gendry felt like shit for bringing up the topic. He reached around for a change of subject. “Are you the only one in your family who dances?”

Her face brightened immediately. “Yep,” she said proudly. “My parents kept trying to find activities to calm me down as a kid, trying to make me more like my sister. It usually didn’t work. But then dad took me to dance class one day and I never looked back. I didn’t see it as giving in to what they wanted. It was completely different. I still felt like me, you know?”

Arya closed her mouth abruptly, suddenly embarrassed. After a few moments, she said quietly, “I don’t think I’ve said that many words to someone in a whole week.” 

Gendry tried to contain his sudden smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.” 

She allowed herself a tiny smile in return before chewing on her bottom lip. He could tell it was a practiced, familiar motion; she probably didn’t even realize she was doing it.

“What is it?” He asked.

She stopped immediately. “What?”

“You look like you have a question. What is it?”

There was a moment of hesitation, then: “Are they going to make you go through with cotillion?”

“I assume so. I got the feeling that they think I’m getting off rather easy. Why?”

“Nothing, just… I’m sorry. That sucks. I’m sure you don’t have a lot of free time as it is.”

He was surprised, but tried not to let it show. “It’s not so bad. Though I’ll definitely think twice next time,” he added sheepishly. “Still, it was worth it.”

“Agreed.” 

“At the risk of sounding like an idiot, can I ask you something?” 

Arya raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

“What’s a cotillion?”

“Oh. That’s not a stupid question. I’d be quite concerned if you _did_ know about it.” 

He grinned.

“Cotillion,” Arya declared, “is nonsense. Girls get dressed up in clean white dresses and are ‘introduced,’ as they say, to society, whilst on the arm of their chosen young man who has been forced into a tux. It’s an old tradition that has somehow survived to haunt us even now.”

Jesus. Well, he had to know what he was getting into.

He coughed. “That’s…” 

“Ridiculous,” Arya supplied. “Stupid. Useless. All of the above.” 

Gendry agreed wholeheartedly. Then another thought struck him. “Wait. So they’re expecting you to be introduced… with me?”

Her brows furrowed in thought. “Good question. I guess so.”

“They may not have thought this through.” He shrugged. “Oh well. I guess I’m already in.”

“You could probably still get out of it, if you play your cards right.” 

“And leave you all alone?”

Her eyes flashed. “What, you think I can’t handle it?”

“No,” he smirked, “I don’t think _they_ could handle it.” He nodded his head at the others in the room. “Someone’s got to stop you from taking out the entire senior class.” 

Gendry laughed when she punched his stomach, not missing a step as they moved. Secretly, he was impressed. Those tiny fists could do some damage if they really wanted to. Arya was shaking her head but smiling exasperatedly. She was cute. More than cute.

“Besides,” he pointed out, “I’m sure your mum will not be pleased when she finds out a ruffian like me is accompanying you. But like you said, it was her idea.”

Arya raised an eyebrow, though she was still smiling. “Ruffian? Really? Who talks like that?”

“I guess you’ll find out, when you tell your mum.” He grinned, immensely pleased with himself as she let out a laugh.

Damn. He was in so much trouble.


	83. Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> domestic fluff. future-fic/AU.

“I have to be at the practice yard soon,” Arya said. "I'll be late if you keep this up."

"Your students will wait. In fact, I bet they'll be grateful for it," Gendry murmured. His lips continued to trail down her neck, unhurried. 

“Gendry,” she protested. “You have work, too.”

“I run the forge,” came his muffled response. “I can get there whenever I want. The work will still be there.” 

She bit back a soft moan as he sucked a bloom along her collarbone. Weakly, she pushed at his shoulders until she felt him shift. Drowsy blue eyes looked up at her from under raised eyebrows.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I never said that,” she gritted out. “I want you to _hurry up_.”

He chuckled, a low rumble deep in his throat, and returned to his task. His mouth moved lazily along her skin, and despite herself she arched against him, hands twisting in his thick black hair. He knew exactly what he was doing and so did she. So she hooked her leg around his, pushing their bodies together right where she wanted.

That got a deep groan out of him. A smug grin crossed her face, only to be wiped off seconds later by his kiss. His mouth covered hers hotly, his tongue sneaking past her lips to plunder.

Just as she was about to reverse their positions and fully take control, she heard it: a tiny knock at their door. Gendry lifted his head also, his puzzled face inches from hers. “Did you hear that?”

She nodded. Then the knock sounded again, followed by a hesistant, “Pa? I’m hungry.”

Arya laughed, letting her head fall back on the pillow. Gendry’s head dropped to her shoulder as he let out a sigh. She knew he was only momentarily exasperated. It was usually overcome by the sheer happiness that always took over around their little girl. Arya brushed a hand over his hair, smiling when he finally looked up. His eyes were already alight. Pressing close, they shared a quick, soft kiss until the knock sounded again.

“Coming, sweetling,” Arya called out. To Gendry, she grinned. “Our daughter wants to see you.”

He nipped at her bottom lip before pulling away. As he clambered out of their bed, still swaying sleepily, he yawned, “You should come to the forge later. I could use the distraction.” He wiggled his eyebrows until she threw a pillow at him. 

Chuckling, he pulled on a shirt and yanked their door open. Bryn’s tiny form peered up at him through clear eyes, her dark hair a curly mess. She was still clutching her favorite ratty blue pillow.

“Hello there. May I help you?” He asked formally.

“I’m hungry.” 

Gendry’s sigh was long and drawn out. “I guess I shall have to feed you then.” With a wink at Arya, he bent and scooped Bryn off the ground, throwing her gently over his shoulder as he padded to the kitchen. Their daughter giggled in delight, perfectly thrilled to be getting what she wanted. Arya grinned as she heard Gendry’s raised voice ask, “What would m’lady like today?” 

Laying in bed a moment longer, her mind wandered to her parents, as it did nearly every day. She hoped they could see this. She hoped they knew she was finally home, and finally happy.

“And what does my other lady love request for breakfast?” Gendry hollered down the hall.

Arya laughed and finally got up, going to join her husband and daughter in the kitchen. Giving Gendry a light smack on the head, she sat down and tugged Bryn into her lap, planting a noisy kiss on her cheek. Gendry was right, she decided. Her students could wait a few minutes longer today.


	84. Brood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for Jules, who requested: "Stark family party and Arya and Gendry's multiple brats raise hell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the prompt, this was fun! I'm not really sure this counts as raising hell, but I feel like they're still a handful, lol. I did veer into mush eventually. Hope you enjoy it :)

Jon hopped down the last few stairs. Turning the corner, he was met with the battle cry of a small dark-haired boy that was currently charging at him, waving his toy hammer. Jon laughed, easily catching him by the waist and swinging him up high.

“I got you now, little guy.” He shifted his grip. “Whoa, what exactly have they been feeding you?”

“Everything,” Gendry laughed from behind him. Strolling up to them, he shook a finger in mock scolding. “He’s got a system all worked out, you see. In between each meal he runs between me and his mum, snagging treats from us both.”

“Well aren’t you the clever one, Micah?” Jon turned to the little boy, whose inquisitive blue eyes were trained on him. Micah giggled, and Jon shook his head. “I know he’s the spitting image of you, man, but that glint in his eyes is all Arya.”

His friend laughed. “Don’t I know it.” 

A dark-haired blur came streaking from the kitchen, bowling into Gendry’s leg. Grey eyes peeked out from under a curtain of dark hair. Her hands and face were smudged with what looked suspiciously like chocolate. Jon raised his eyebrows, but Gendry seemed unconcerned, patting the newcomer on the head.

“Hello, munchkin.”

“Hi daddy.”

“Did you save any chocolate for me?”

She chewed on her lip, suddenly so apologetic that Jon had to stifle his urge to laugh. 

“It’s alright. Next time you will, right Lena?”

She nodded vigorously.

“So, are you hiding from your aunt?” 

Another nod.

“I see.” Reaching down, he pried her hands off his leg and pulled her into his arms. “Then we’d better go clean you up and get rid of all the evidence, yeah?” With a grin, he headed for the bathroom.

Jon felt a tug at his hair, and looked to see Micah’s little hand wrapped around a few strands. He yanked again, and Jon winced.

“Easy there, buddy,” he said. Micah simply laughed.

“You might want to tie your hair back.” Arya appeared from the living room. “Once he gets hold of it, he won’t let go too easily.” 

“Thanks for the advice. Where’s the third of your brood?”

She punched his shoulder, all the while smiling sweetly at Micah. “At the table with Sansa and her girls. Speaking of my family, have you seen the other two?”

“You mean the chocolate swindler?” He pointed to the bathroom. “I believe Gendry is trying to wipe away the evidence.” 

Arya’s mouth twitched. She reached out and gently extracted Micah’s hand from his hair, settling him on her hip as they walked to the kitchen. As soon as the door opened and Micah saw the others, he began wiggling. She set him down but held him back for one more second, bending down to whisper something in his ear. Then she patted his back and stood, watching him scramble off.

“You of all people should know that telling him to be good won’t work,” Jon commented.

Arya glanced at him sidelong. “Who says I told him to be good?” 

Jon laughed heartily, drawing glances from Sansa and Catelyn. He didn’t mind; they were used to it by now. Arya grinned, leaning against him when he threw his arm around her shoulders. They stood together for a moment, watching Ned chase Micah around the room.

Then Jon said, “I think Bryn’s been hanging out with Sansa’s daughters too much.” 

Arya looked over at the table, where her oldest was sitting with Sansa and her two daughters. Bryn was their one and only brunette, and easily the calmest of the three kids. Though, Jon had come to discover she had a wicked sense of humor, when she let down her guard enough to show it. Her wit nearly rivaled Arya’s.

Biologically, Bryn wasn’t their daughter. But good luck to the person who pointed that out. Arya and Gendry were notoriously, fiercely protective of their baby girl. They didn’t make a secret of her adoption - she’d been old enough when she joined their family to know better. But they treated her the same as they had Micah and Lena; there was never any indication that it hadn’t always been this way. Seeing them all together always made Jon unbearably happy. Having felt much like a partly adopted child himself, he knew things didn't always turn out so well. And yet, most people never guessed the truth, and nobody corrected them. Because it had become their truth that Bryn was just as much their family as anyone else.

Now she sat at the table, quietly answering Sansa’s questions about how school was going. Jon repeated himself, adding, “She’s far too calm. Don’t you think?” 

He thought Arya would agree with him, only to see her smiling to herself.

“What?”

“Look closer, “ she replied. 

Jon squinted, trying not to be too obvious. Then he caught a glimpse of a bushy tail under the table, and felt the grin stretch across his face.

“Is that Nymeria?”

“The one and only,” Arya laughed. 

They watched as Bryn took a small bite of her food, casually tilting the spoon to let some of the food fall onto the napkin in her lap. As she continued to chat with her aunt, she held a hand out under the table, feeding the extras to the hound. 

Nymera had grown fiercely attached to Bryn - to all the little ones, really. But in the beginning, she’d stuck to Bryn’s side like a shadow. 

Jon felt something brush by his feet, and looked down to see Ghost trotting towards the table. Nymeria came shooting out from underneath, startling Bryn into dropping some of the food she’d been sneaking away. Guiltily, she looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Arya was already on her way, winking as she took a seat next to her daugher.

Gendry came in through the side door, a cleaned-up Lena sitting on his shoulders. Immediately, she was tugging his ears and begging to be let down. With a whispered warning, he bent and set her down, where she immediately went to Nymeria and Ghost. Ned had finally gotten hold of Micah, and was now tickling him mercilessly, eliciting high-pitched squeals of laughter.

“I’m amazed your head isn’t completely gray already,” Jon said as Gendry neared. 

His friend’s eyes crinkled as he smiled widely. “Come on, you know you miss this. We make these family gatherings so much more fun, don’t you think?”

“You certainly keep it interesting, I’ll give you that.”

Gendry leaned against the counter next to him. “Plus, this way, they’re always asleep on time. Too tired to do anything else after dinner.”

“Very true. So you guys staying the night?”

He nodded. “You?”

“Yeah. Figured the long drive could wait til morning.”

“Yeah… where’s Micah?”

Jon looked over to where his father had been. “Dad had him, he was right-” But now his dad was back at the table, and Micah was nowhere in sight.

Gendry pushed through the swinging door, heading for the living room with Jon right behind him. They rounded the corner just in time to see Micah launch himself at the candy cane ornament that hung high on the Christmas tree. 

“Shit. _Micah_ ,” Gendry’s warning came too late. The little boy was already in the air. By some miracle, he only crashed into the lower part of the tree, causing several smaller ornaments to fall on the carpet. Gendry was already there, scooping him up as the tree swayed lightly. Jon pushed past him to hold it upright until he was sure it was balanced again.

“Everything okay here?” Arya poked her head in. Seeing their situation, her eyes widened and she strode in.

“Micah, you rascal,” she scolded lightly. He only grinned back at her. Then Gendry handed him the ornament he’d been after, and he yelled happily, his little hand victoriously waving the fake candy cane. 

“He was aiming for this,” Gendry told her. “Nearly knocked the whole tree over instead.”

Arya was trying her hardest not to laugh, but a snort escaped anyways. 

“You would not be laughing when mum killed you for ruining her tree,” Jon reminded her, bending to pick up the other fallen ornaments.

She waved a hand at him. “Yes, I would be laughing, because I’ve done much worse than that. Or have you forgotten the famous Christmas of ‘93?”

Micah was already squirming again in Gendry’s arms. 

“Can’t stay still for more than a minute, can you little guy?” Gendry tweaked his nose before setting him down, and he ran off in another direction.

Jon looked at his sister pointedly. “You know this is payback, right?”

Before she could answer, Gendry had hugged her close. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.” She grinned up at him until a crash sounded from the kitchen.

They both winced. Then came the yell: “Arya!”

Gendry grinned. “Your turn, love.” 

“Shut up.”

But she skipped to the kitchen anyways.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jon climbed the stairs slowly. The kitchen was finally clean to Catelyn’s satisfaction, though there was still plenty of alcohol flowing. He would have joined, if he wasn’t already so exhausted. Dinner had been plenty entertaining, but tiring nonetheless.

The kids had their own battles with the food. Micah inhaled everything on his plate - literally. More than once, Jon glanced over in concern to make sure he wasn’t choking. Every now and then, Gendry would plop down next to him, patting him on the back a little extra-hard, just in case. Meanwhile, Lena seemed determined to find the remainder of the chocolate she’d gotten her hands on earlier. Arya had excused herself at least three times to scoop up the little girl from a precarious perch on a chair or a peek in the pantry. Bryn had given in to Nymeria and Ghost after dinner, chasing them around the house. No wonder they had all headed upstairs early. 

He didn’t blame them for escaping, but that left him to help with all the clean-up. Though, after Ygritte’s phone call, he didn’t much care what was asked of him. He just wanted to leave as early as possible tomorrow to get back to her. 

Reaching the top of the stairs, he was about to turn left to his old room when he heard quiet laughter from down the hall to his right. Recognizing Arya’s voice, he headed in that direction. Peeking his head inside the second room, he found Gendry and Arya seated on the floor atop some blankets, passing a bottle of wine back and forth. Both had changed into their sweats, and Arya’s hair was back in her usual messy braid. All three kids were fast asleep in the huge queen-sized bed.

Gendry saw him first and waved him inside. Jon took a seat across from them.

“Swiped a bottle from downstairs?”

“Are you kidding?” Arya replied. “This is ours. Brought it with us specifically for this.” She raised the bottle in a toast before taking a huge gulp.

Jon chuckled. “You guys certainly deserve it.”

Bryn shifted, turning onto her back. She was snoring softly, one arm thrown out so it hung off the mattress. Arya reached out and clasped her hand gently before laying it back on the bed.

She turned back to Jon. “How’s Ygritte doing?”

“Better, I think.” She’d been sick to her stomach for two days straight before Jon finally threatened to take her to the hospital. So she’d scheduled a visit to the doctor earlier today. He tried to keep the foolish grin from his face as he recalled their phone call earlier.

But Arya noticed immediately. “What is it? What are you not telling us?”

He ran a hand through his hair, unable to keep it to himself. “She didn’t have the flu or a bug or anything like that.” He grinned happily at their expectant looks. “Ygritte’s pregnant.” 

Arya squealed and threw herself at him, knocking them both to the floor in a hug. Gendry was laughing, but he had the sense to put down the wine bottle before yanking them both up and giving Jon another hug. 

“Congratulations, man.” 

“Thank you.” Jon looked over at the kids, but Arya waved off his concern. 

“They’ll sleep through anything.” She smiled and threw her arms around him again. “I’m so, so happy for you.”

When they parted, he said, “We want to keep this quiet for now. I want to see her and the damn test and just… be sure. Then we’ll tell mum and dad together.” 

“Of course,” Arya told him, clasping his hand. “We won’t say a word.” 

Gendry held out the bottle. “I think you deserve a drink now.” 

“No way,” Jon laughed. “I had enough downstairs, or I’d be on the road already.”

His friend grinned. Then he nodded at the sound asleep trio of kids. “You ready for this?”

“It’s going to be a boy, hands down,” Arya said, swiping the bottle again. “Micah’s going to have a blast.”

Jon groaned. “Gods help us, there’s going to be two of them.” 

Arya only grinned wickedly as Gendry laughed.


	85. Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ADwD, future fic. Arya returned to the Brotherhood, they took back Winterfell, etc. One day she hears they’re leaving and gets upset, thinking that includes Gendry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote this a while back actually and just found it the other day. Happy season 4 everyone :3

Arya’s boots clattered on the stone as she ran down the steps, weaving between people without a second glance. Word had just reached her, through _Sansa_ of all people, that the Brotherhood was leaving Winterfell. 

Tonight.

Her sister had moved forward in alarm at the look on Arya’s face, but she’d slipped out of her reach just in time, ignoring Sansa’s calls as she dashed out of the main hall. There was only one location she had in mind, only one face that was currently consuming her thoughts, and she saw red.

The thick, hot air of the forge barely stopped her as she burst in, uncaring of who else might be there. As usual, though, Gendry was alone.

His arm was raised in mid-swing as he looked up, his blue eyes startled. 

“You bastard.” 

Gendry nearly took a step back at the venom in her voice, but he managed not to move, though he did put his hammer down. Arya marched towards him, more than a little surprised at the fury that currently threatened to boil over, but everything seemed to pale in the face of the recent news.

Now he was looking at her in concern, as if he couldn’t figure out the cause of her anger.

“How could you not tell me?” She all but shouted.

His brows drew in confusion. “What?”

Her fists came up, pummeling his chest, his arm, his shoulder - any body part within reach. “How?” She yelled again, ignoring his protests.

His hands came up, catching her wrists like he so often did, but this time it wasn’t in jest, and the memory only fueled her anger. Struggling, she brought her knee up, trying anything to get his grip to lessen. 

It wouldn’t. Gendry’s jaw was set in determination as his hands held hers like a vice, and to her horror Arya felt hot tears prick her eyes. She hated feeling useless, but at the moment, that was all she could feel - helpless to stop him, _again_.

“Why do you keep leaving?” She spat out bitterly, and suddenly his grip slackened. His face was twisted in awful understanding as he stared down at her.

“Should I come back?”

They both turned at the voice, Gendry releasing her immediately. Thoros stood in the doorway with an amused look on his face, looking at them both expectantly. They were both frozen a second longer, exchanging equally startled looks with the older man until Gendry stepped away from her, shaking his head.

“No, of course not. Your things are ready, just wait there,” he instructed, heading for the back room.

Arya focused on a pair of blades on a corner shelf, steadily avoiding Thoros’s all-too-knowing glances. 

“Lover’s quarrel?” He finally asked.

Despite herself, her eyes snapped towards his. “You’re lucky I don’t have my Needle right now.” 

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m only jesting. I know better than to suggest such a thing.” 

Arya felt a lump form in her throat, though she couldn’t understand why. Looking away again, she turned her back to Thoros completely. The rattle of steel sounded from the back room, and she huffed in annoyance.

“What is he doing?”

“I asked him to make me new armor.” 

She crossed her arms sullenly. “Couldn’t you have just done that later? You’ll have all the bloody time on the road.”

Thoros was silent for a moment too long, and Arya found herself straining to hear his reply for reasons unknown to her. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. 

“No, we won’t.” 

Not understanding, she turned to him in irritation. “What are you talking about? Of course you will, he’d shape a bloody shield out of tree bark if he wanted to.” 

He snorted but shook his head. “That might be the case, but the only forge he’ll be using is here at Winterfell.” 

Arya was certain she’d heard him wrong. But when she went to reply, she found her throat tight with hope brought on by his words. Thoros let out a heavy sigh, the amusement turning into something too close to sympathy.

“He’s not coming with us, lass. Ask him yourself if you like, but his answer won’t change.”

Gendry chose that moment to emerge from the backroom, carrying a large bundle. Arya watched as he gingerly placed it on the table without a word, unwrapping it for Thoros to take a look. The older man smiled and nodded, clapping him on the shoulder in thanks, and Gendry placed the items in a large sack before handing it off. Following Thoros to the door, he bolted it shut behind him with a definitive thunk before turning around.

His expression was cautious but no longer puzzled, and Arya felt her anger begin to dissipate. But in its place came trepidation - something she had no idea how to handle.

“You’re not leaving?” She demanded. She needed to hear him say it.

“No,” came his soft reply.

“Why not?” 

Gendry tilted his head. “Do you really not know?”

Arya wasn’t sure she knew anything at the moment. It must have shown on her face, because he asked another question. 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” She moved forward as she spoke, startled by how fiercely she meant it. 

A hint of a smile appeared on his face, and he crossed to her in a few long strides. “Then that’s why I’m not going,” he said.

Arya swallowed, trying to push back the tears that were now threatening to fall for an entirely different reason. She didn’t realize that she’d been leaning forward until she found her head resting against his tunic, and her eyes closed in relief. It was only when his arms wrapped around her, holding her close, that the tears leaked from her eyes despite her best efforts, soaking into the cloth of his shirt. Gendry’s grip tightened, his head coming to rest atop hers with a sigh.

They could have stood there for minutes or hours. Arya didn’t care. At the moment, the only thing that mattered was that Gendry wasn’t leaving that night - or any future night, as far as she was concerned. 

She mumbled as much into his shirt, and when he tilted her head up she thought it was because he hadn’t heard, so she opened her mouth to repeat herself. But then his lips were descending warmly onto hers, a soft caress and wordless promise wrapped in a kiss that stole her breath and refused to give it back.


	86. Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Arya stays with the Brotherhood. A few years later, they're at another brothel/inn like The Peach, but this time things go a little differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another old drabble I found :3

Gendry took another sip of his ale. And then promptly almost spit it back out as a hand stroked the back of his neck.

“What’s a handsome lad like you doing all by himself?” One of the girls wedged herself next to him on the bench, raising her eyebrows suggestively. Her hair was braided and pinned up in an intricate style – it would have been rather pretty, he thought, if it hadn’t been immediately contradicted by the way she nearly spilled out of her ill-fitting dress as she leaned forward.

“I’m waiting for someone,” he lied, looking away.

“Aren’t we all?” Her smile was meant to be sweet and enticing, but Gendry couldn’t bring himself to be interested. She placed her hand atop his forearm, stroking random patterns. “I could keep you company, until your _friend_ shows up.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but someone beat him to it.

“There won’t be any need for that.” 

Gendry’s head whipped around to see Arya standing behind him, hands on her hips. Her grey eyes shot daggers at the girl, who didn’t seem to be getting the message at all.

“Sweetling I think he’s a bit old for you. Why don’t you go find the inkeep’s boy?”

Gendry winced. That was definitely the wrong thing to say. 

Arya cocked an eyebrow before a slow smile spread across her face. “A bit old, hmm? What do you say, husband? Do you agree with that?"

It took him a moment to realize she was talking to him. By then, the other girl had already removed her hand from his arm. He coughed. “I dunno. Mayhaps we should ask the septon again?”

The girl pushed off the bench, muttering to herself. Arya’s grin had become a full-blown smirk as she sat on the bench next to him, reaching for his ale and taking a large gulp.

When she set the cup down, she looked over to see his raised eyebrow. “What?” 

“What just happened?”

“Did you _want_ her to stay?”

“Well, no, but I- you-”

“Relax. It’s not like we have to prove we’re married or anything.” Arya’s cheeks were most certainly red as she took another sip, and a second later Gendry’s mind caught up with what his cock had already figured out. _Seven hells._

He tugged the cup from her hand, finishing what was left. “Still. Quite a choice of words.”

“Well it was better than being your _sister_ again,” Arya snarked, and Gendry was surprised to hear bitterness in her voice. Before he could ask why, she added, “And don’t start with that ‘too bloody lowborn’ nonsense again.”

An incredulous laugh rumbled out of him. “Sorry to have offended you, m’lady.”

She shoved him, though it felt more like a rabbit trying to budge a boulder. “Shut up.”

“I still don’t know why that made you so upset,” he retorted.

“That’s because you’re still stupid.” 

He grinned, but his mind was still focused on the edge in her voice. “I’m surprised you even remember that,” he said after a moment.

Arya’s sharp gaze locked on his face. “And why wouldn’t I?”

Gendry shrugged. “Dunno. I didn’t think it was that important.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Then you’re stupider than I thought.” 

He almost leaned back at the bite in her words. What had started out as a joke on his part was apparently a sore spot for her. Not that he was particularly proud of that moment, either, but he hadn’t expected _her_ to have such a strong reaction.

When he didn’t reply, Arya rolled her eyes and got up, striding quickly towards the stairs. Gendry sat at the table for a minute longer, staring at the dark splinters of wood. He thought about ordering another drink and just letting her be. Sometimes she just needed to gather herself on her own and she’d come back completely fine. 

But this time he felt like there was something he was missing by not going after her. So he got up and followed, making his way up the steps quickly. He knew which room was hers - he always did. This time he didn’t bother knocking, simply turning the knob and entering.

Arya looked up from the corner, where she was shucking off her boots. Her surprise gave way to irritation almost immediately.

“What now?”

“You’ve been telling me I’m stupid quite a lot lately. I want to know why.” When she opened her mouth, most likely to make another tart statement, he continued, “You know, because I’m so dull that I can’t figure it out on my own.” 

With that, he crossed his arms and leaned against the door, raising an eyebrow. Arya’s expression flickered between shock and outrage - and possibly, amusement - before she shook her head and slowly finished removing her boots. 

“Tell me something,” she said. “Do you still believe what you said? About being too lowborn?”

Well, he hadn’t been expecting that. Not knowing how to reply, he averted his eyes. That was answer enough for her.

“See? That’s exactly what I mean. I knew you believed it all those years ago, and you still believe it now, even after all this time!” Her voice had gone up an octave.

“So?”

“ _So_ , how many times do I have to tell you that’s complete rubbish?” 

“Seven hells, Arya,” Gendry said tiredly. “You are a lady of House Stark. That _is_ highborn, there’s no other word for it.” 

Arya threw up her hands. “Does anything about me even remotely resemble a lady to you?”

The right thing to say was, no, absolutely not, not with her tattered leggings and oversized tunic and messy braid. But those were the things someone who didn’t know her would see. What he noticed was the slight swell of her hips, the slender curve of her neck, the definite pull of her tunic over her chest. She might not have thought herself a lady, but he still did.

His eyes wandered over her slowly, leaving no doubt as to what his next words meant. 

“More than you think," he said. 

He watched as her lips parted, searching for a response, and then closed again when none would come. She looked at him with wide eyes, her cheeks suddenly pink. Whether her surprise was at his words or the fact that he’d actually said them … well, he didn’t know. Arya struggled for a few more moments before finally managing to speak.

“So if- since you- Why do you keep bringing it up then?”

“Because it’s important.”

“Is it important to you because you think it should matter to me, or because you actually care?”

Now it was Gendry’s turn to be speechless. Yet again, she seemed more aware of his motives than he was. When he failed to respond for a full minute, Arya put a hand on her hip, nodding knowingly.

“I thought so.” She came to stand in front of him, and her voice was unexpectedly quiet. “How can you think that’s something I would care about? You’re my friend. You’re my _family._ That’s never going to change.” 

Never. That was a long time. He nearly said so, but thought better of it. She was biting her lip, but her gaze was as bright and determined as ever.

Gendry stared down at her, this fierce, stubborn, wonderful person who had somehow managed to turn him inside out. He wanted so badly to believe her. He was always so careful to draw a line, to keep his distance, but lately it had become exhausting. So for once, he let himself stop worrying.

Just as she would have opened her mouth again, he reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering along her cheek.

“Okay,” he said.

Arya blinked and then, uncertainly: “Okay?”

He nodded, giving her a small smile.

She eyed him carefully for a moment longer before breaking into a wide grin. “Good. Now you can go get us some ale while I pick the lock to the stables.” 

“What? Why?” He was startled by the sudden turn of events.

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been eyeing the poor mare ever since we got here. Something’s wrong with her hoof, isn’t it?” 

Her keen observations never failed to take him aback. And, he realized, it meant she had been watching him more closely than he knew. The thought made his heart do a funny flip. After a second, he answered, “Back left leg. She’s been dragging it for half the trip.” 

“Right. So you bring the ale, and I’ll let you in.” 

“If I don’t bring the ale, will you still let me in?” He teased.

She lifted a shoulder carelessly. “Maybe.” 

Gendry chuckled as she escaped out the back stairwell. He wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but for the first time in a long time, there was hope.


	87. Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU, inspired by a scene from the movie That Awkward Moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday!

Arya’s head knocked back against the shower wall as their hips clashed together. His hands gripped her thighs where her fancy black dress was rucked up nearly to her waist. 

Her moan reverberated off the walls.

“I knew you wouldn’t be quiet.” He bit her earlobe.

“I can be quiet,” she argued breathlessly.

Gendry smirked. “I have no evidence to support that.” 

She flushed instantly and stuck her tongue out. He chased it back inside her mouth with a hot kiss, feeling her smile against his mouth.

Then the door opened, followed by footsteps, and a definitive click of the latch as it closed again. 

They both froze, their faces inches apart. 

Arya had a look of horror that was threatening to spill out in mad giggles. Gendry knew he was moments away from the end of his life, and it all depended on who had just entered the bathroom.

“Did you not lock the door?!” Arya whispered.

“Me? I thought you locked it.”

“Why would I lock it?”

“I dunno, maybe because you fucking came in here after me and-” 

Her hand covered his mouth as she shushed him, her shoulders trembling with silent laughter. He was grinning now, too. It was the only response to their current situation.

Gendry had no explanation for how they’d ended up like this, in her bathroom shower with her dress hiked up and his pants down and fucking like teenagers, and yet here they were. There was a Christmas party going on outside, in the house that currently contained her parents - _sweet lord_ \- and her four watchful brothers. Yet somehow, when he’d escaped into the bathroom for a moment’s break, he’d found her hands covering his eyes moments later, as she whispered, “Guess who?” 

“Margaery?” He grinned when he received the expected punch on the arm. Then she’d backed him up against the sink, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss the daylights out of him. When her hands reached for his belt buckle, he’d come to his senses.

“Arya, what-”

“I’ve been wanting you since you stepped in the house,” she murmured against his lips. 

His eyes closed involuntarily as she began to place fleeting kisses along his jaw, her clever hands still lingering by his waist. Only the sound of high-pitched laughter outside made him snap out of it.

“Wait, but here- we can’t-”

She arched an eyerbow. “Are you really saying no to sex?”

He blinked. It was an excellent question. She grinned, knowing she had him. Drawing away slowly, she began to step backwards towards the shower, teasingly unbuttoning the front of her dress. “Stop being a wuss, then,” she taunted.

And, that had been that. 

Now they were shoved up against the wall in the corner of her shower, his cock buried in her tight, wet heat but unable to move. They held still, trying not to burst out laughing as whoever it was finished their business. Gendry prayed to any and all gods that it was not a Stark relative. 

Arya was dangerously close to losing it. As the toilet flushed, the slightest of giggles escaped.

“Sshhh!” He hissed. “Do you not realize this is life or death?”

It only made her shake harder, so he pressed his hand over her mouth, doing his best to warn her silently of the dire consequences that awaited just outside the sliding door of the shower. The water ran in the sink for what seemed like the most agonizing 30 seconds of his life. 

Finally it turned off, followed by a pause and then, blessedly, footsteps exiting. The minute the door snapped shut, laughter bubbled out of Arya as she braced herself between him and the wall.

“Oh god,” she breathed. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

His head dropped to her shoulder. “I think I saw my life flash before my eyes.”

Arya giggled and nipped at his ear before drawing his head up for a deep kiss. He gave in for a few moments before wrenching away again. She pouted, trying to pull him back, and he grinned.

“One sec.” 

She gasped as he eased out of her carefully. Hopping out of the shower, he firmly locked the door before any other mishap could occur, hearing her laugh bubble out again behind him. 

He was back to her a second later, hitching her up against the wall and driving into her. Her legs squeezed his waist as countless gasps and sighs left her mouth. His hands left imprints where he gripped her thighs. Their lips met again, tongues dancing fiercely as they drove each other to the edge.

As they regained themselves, Gendry rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. 

“You nearly got me killed, woman.”

“But it was worth it, wasn’t it?” Arya grinned smugly at him.

They both knew the answer. With Arya, it was always worth it.


End file.
